Morning of the Magicians
by LaSemeuse
Summary: Picard's birthday takes a lethal turn.
1. Morning of the Magicians

Yay - Paramount owns everything.  
  
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Morning of the Magicians  
  
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"It's your birthday, Jean-Luc. Indulge a little bit - who knows when you'll get the chance again." Beverly Crusher gave Jean-Luc Picard a wink and an impish grin as she leaned forward to kiss him chastely on the jaw. Her thick red hair fell toward him as she did so, silken curled locks gently brushing Picard's face. His breath caught in his chest and his mechanical heart leapt as she pulled back and stood to clear plates from the coffee table. Picard reclined with the second piece of cake he'd been deliberating over with so much agony.  
  
He smiled bashfully. "I suppose you're right." He gazed at her willowy form, wistfully thinking of birthdays past and indulgences he had not allowed himself. He thought that perhaps tonite might be the last he dwelled on those regrets. He had watched Beverly closely, carefully all evening. Their eyes met constantly and she had never been more than a step away from him. She was like his shadow; ever present but never invasive or unwelcome. And one would find himself incapable of explaining if it were ever absent. He remembered with a slight thrill how she'd touched him frequently - familiar, lingering grazes that seemed to invite more.  
  
Beverly reflected on the subtle messages she'd been sending all evening, hoping Picard had picked up on them. Only moments earlier the remainder of the Enterprise senior staff had departed, merry and full of well wishes. The feel of joy still hung in the air of the cabin, as did several loony party favors selected and arranged by Data and Geordi. She could still hear the wail of Riker's trombone as the unavoidable 'happy birthday' dirge evolved into a festive ragtime number. Crusher had been planning a celebratory dinner for Picard's birthday the past week, but duty had prevented them all from getting together until this evening. She was glad to have this time with Jean-Luc, and in fact had a very specific agenda for the rest of the night. Beverly almost giggled nervously in anticipation. She felt like a schoolgirl with a major crush - one that was in fact returned and about to become something real.  
  
She finished with the dishes, but before moving back to the sofa she paused to press a button on the desk. An ancient Terran melody from the classical period filled the air and the lights came down almost imperceptibly.  
  
She stalked purposefully back into the dimmed living area and her eyes met Picard's instantly. From what she saw in them it was clear he had not missed her point. She began to sit but noticed she still had not cleared the cake plates. Half of her wanted to ignore it, but the other half of her perfectionist personality insisted that the ambience be absolutely right. Clanging silver and cake crumbs were not part of the plan.  
  
She began gathering them up and Picard stood to assist her. She waved him off. "It's OK Jean-Luc. I have another task in mind for you." His eyes twinkled in surprise. She smiled easily, beautifully, her features lighting up. "We're out of wine. Could you find us something suitable from the reserve?" She inclined her head toward the bedroom, where she knew he kept his best bottles.  
  
Having already guessed at her intentions, Picard was now certain Beverly had something quite special planned for the rest of the evening. He spoke infrequently and with reverence of the vintages he kept hidden away, and knew she would never flippantly request he bring out a bottle. He happily stole away to the bedroom, his thoughts racing. He quickly catalogued what he had on hand, racking his mind for the most appropriate and symbolic choice.  
  
Crusher's smile stayed firmly in place, only widening slightly. His demeanor was always joyous when dealing with wine - its selection, consideration, or consumption. She knew he was thrilled with his task. The fact that he might be more excited about the wine than about what she had in mind afterward only endeared him to her more. She hummed quietly as she finished clearing the table. She stowed the plates away and turned her attention to the cake. Troi had been in charge of it, and was quite proud of the masterpiece she'd created. It was, of course, chocolate. Sinfully dark and decadent, she had managed to find a recipe that was at once rich and light. The texture was incredibly layered - the body firm and the frosting whipped and creamy. The overall result was absolutely intense and left you aching for more. Beverly looked forward to her own second slice, hopefully to be enjoyed in the approaching early morning hours and not alone.  
  
Still preoccupied with the cake, Beverly did not notice that the tune she was humming did not match the music playing in the Captain's quarters. It was one that had haunted her waking and sleeping for weeks, the first few bars repeating over and over in her head. She was rarely conscious of its presence, but did find herself either singing or humming it under her breath on several occasions. Slow, lilting, and rich, the version she heard was a string arrangement. It always gave her a sense of déjà vu and she knew that it was a very old, very ceremonial piece from Earth - from its sound she guessed perhaps around the 17th or 18th century.  
  
Returning to her task, she jumped and started, almost reeling as starlight from the nearby portal filtered in and brightly flashed on the cake knife she held. Suddenly the rest of the melody came rushing into her head. It was loud, almost overwhelming. Realization swept over her as she recognized the piece, Schubert's 'Ave Maria,' and where she had heard it. She gasped and grasped the knife tighter in her fist.  
  
Picard emerged from the other room and began speaking. She could not distinguish his words, only registered the deep sound that rumbled from his chest. Her vision became sharp and pixilated. From a great distance she heard the clang as Picard set down the wine. Each sound came through to her, but was muffled by the music that was now reverberating through her mind. The composition swelled, and more instruments joined the arrangement. As the piece moved to a crescendo a cello began to play what she recognized as the central melody. It was all she could do not to begin crying. She turned toward Picard and clutched the knife tightly at her side, still humming quietly.  
  
She saw that he was speaking to her, but she could hear nothing of what he said. As she walked forward she feigned a stretch, moving her arms behind her waist and masking the weapon in her right hand. Picard offered her a glass of wine, proudly showing her the bottle. It was of course from the Picard winery, some twenty years old - clearly one of his finest. She smiled approvingly, seductively, and continued to advance. Perplexed, Picard set the glass down and moved against the bulkhead adjoining his bedroom.  
  
Arms still behind her Crusher moved assertively against him, pinning Picard against the wall. Violins, harps and cellos echoed in her mind, repeating the primary chorus of the song ceaselessly. It was beautiful, haunting, tragic and commanding - and it was everywhere. She searched Picard's eyes intently, but could not find what she needed there.  
  
Jean-Luc melted under Beverly's piercing stare. Her sapphire eyes were profoundly intense, dilated and fixed. They were filled with passion, but somehow unfocused. He could not ignore her physical presence, but instinctually began to resist her. He began to feel claustrophobic. She was humming eerily to herself. She had responded to nothing he'd said since returning from the bedroom. He spoke her name. "Beverly." She still stared at him, but did not respond. His tone became authoritative. It was one that he reserved for the bridge and signaled they were no longer off duty. "Beverly." Again, it was as if he had not spoken.  
  
For her part, Crusher's ears registered nothing. A clear, crystalline voice was now singing, perhaps the most pure and beautiful she'd ever heard. It was all that she was aware of and the world outside her began closing in. Picard was now the only thing she could see, and all she could hear was the song, a great orchestra crashing in her mind. She pictured an ancient church with great towering marble walls and devastatingly beautiful stained glass windows. She could see the various colors of light filtering in, muted as though she were underwater.  
  
She then felt Picard tense against her and responded instantly. Her first strike was lethal. She knew his body inside and out, every square inch. She had worked with it for years, placed her hands inside his chest to touch and heal the quivering tissue, and then closed the wounds herself. There was nothing of his physique she did not know, and her surgeon's precision did not fail. She struck smoothly and swiftly without looking down, her ice blue eyes locked on his dark hazel.  
  
They turned even darker and his mouth opened slightly as the knife slid at a murderously artful angle between his ribs and through his lung, penetrating and mortally damaging his artificial heart. His expression was pained, shocked, confused. Everything slowed down. While Picard could no longer feel his heart beating, he could feel every fiber of her body against his own. He studied each pore on her alabaster skin, each strand of scarlet hair. He tried to understand what was happening and could not - he could not focus or think properly for some reason. Reflexively he grasped her left arm as tightly as he could, struggling to free himself. With the effort escaped a soft groan. He tried to speak her name, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "Beverly?"  
  
Without stepping back she slid the knife out. The sound of the composition was massive, hypnotic. Still pressed firmly against him, she felt a hot rush of blood on her own chest. It was as though she were on fire. She felt it spread to her abdomen. He was bleeding profusely now, but it would not be for long as his heart was no longer pumping. Though the volume of the music in her head was now slowly decreasing, the cello still played the agonizing central theme. The angelic voice of the woman was silent, and Beverly longed for it to return.  
  
She focused again on Picard. His face was ashen and his eyes almost black. He remained standing only by virtue of the weight she pressed against him. He was wheezing now, a reedy and high-pitched whine. He was trying desperately to draw air into the lung that still functioned. It would only be seconds now before he lost consciousness. Very little air was reaching his still heart, no blood was traveling to his head. She guessed he would be alive for less than another minute. Still the music played in her head and she hummed quietly, studying his eyes curiously and intently as they dimmed. She had seen life steal away from a person before, but had always been too distracted by efforts to bring it back to every truly savor and understand the moment. She waited patiently until she saw the very last of the light flicker out of his eyes. She stepped back and watched as he slid down the wall and crumpled on the floor. He did not move.  
  
"Computer, secure doors." It was very late in the evening, but she did not want to risk being disturbed quite yet. Now singing she turned and walked back over to the dining table. She held the darkened knife up to the starlight and considered it before placing it on the table. Stained a deep crimson, the blood on the blade had already begun to thicken and fat drops plopped onto the glass. She casually picked up a towel and wiped at the blood on her hand and arm. She then returned her attention to Picard. She walked slowly back over to him and bent before him, arms around her knees like a child. He did not move. She reached to feel his neck. It was cooler than usual and the rough feel of stubble grazed against her fingertips. There was no pulse. Satisfied she stood and turned to the sofa.  
  
She picked up the glass of wine Jean-Luc had poured only moments earlier. She sank down lightly on the sofa and crossed her long, slender legs. She gazed at the far wall and took a sip. It was indeed an amazing vintage, and she held it up to the stars to study the patterns of light it cast off. A full-bodied merlot, it was almost exactly the color of Picard's blood- soaked tunic. She glanced again at his still form. The voice of the woman had returned and the music filled her. Closing her eyes, she sighed. She leaned back against the sofa and let oblivion wash over her.  
  
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"As the dawn began to break, I had to surrender. The universe will have its way, too powerful to master. Oh, what is love and what is hate? And why does it matter? Is to love just a waste, why does it matter?"  
  
In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - www.flamminglips.com  
  
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	2. Morning of the Magicians Two

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Morning of the Magicians  
  
Two  
  
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"Doctor Crusher? Doctor Crusher?" Alyssa Powell rested a hand lightly on her boss' shoulder. Beverly jumped.  
  
"I'm sorry Alyssa. Can I help you?" Crusher favored Powell with a dreamy half-smile.  
  
"Are you feeling well, sir?" Alyssa's dark eyes were large with concern. This was not the first time in recent days that she'd found Crusher in this almost trance-like state.  
  
"Yes, yes. Just a little preoccupied." The physician waved her hand in dismissal and gave another unsteady smile.  
  
"I just wanted to let you know, Doctor, that Lieutenant Toledo is in for her pre-natal. I've done the initial exam but I wanted to have you sign off on it." Powell stepped back around the desk, still unsatisfied with Crusher's behavior.  
  
Crusher stood, shaking herself mentally. "Thank you Alyssa. I'll be right in." She took the padd from Powell to review the initial work-up. She smiled until the young Lieutenant left her office. Turning from the door she ran a hand through her hair and let out a heavy sigh. It was becoming hard to deny, even to herself - she was becoming more and more distracted lately. She'd taken to entering what she could only consider very brief fugue states, with no idea upon recovering what had transpired in the prior minutes. So far she had not suffered an episode during anything significant, but she wondered if perhaps it were only a matter of time before she did. She resolved to speak with Deanna at the end of the day. After she'd conducted a discreet and thorough scan of her own.  
  
Humming quietly to herself, she walked resolutely out of her office and into main sickbay.  
  
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"Will, the day after tomorrow is the only time I've managed to get everyone together!" Crusher's tone was exasperated and she was on the verge of losing her temper, a fact not lost on a contrite looking Will Riker.  
  
"Beverly I know. But that's the only night I could schedule all the department heads at once for the quarterly personnel review. Can we put it off just another nite?" Will gave her his best puppy dog eyes - it worked on damn near every woman he'd encountered, but it was always touch and go with Crusher.  
  
"Will, Data's got a recital that evening." Crusher's tone and expression were deadly serious. "The Captain's birthday was two days ago. It is rather tricky explaining my absolute lack of any and all plans while maintaining any semblance of surprise. At this point we might as well throw him an un- birthday party."  
  
Will only looked perplexed.  
  
Crusher could not fight the amused smile that spread across her face. "Un- birthday. It's from an old story that Wesley loved as a child." She shook her finger at him, her countenance again serious. "You created this problem Commander, and you're going to fix it."  
  
He came around her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down and spoke softly. "I can't do it day after tomorrow, but I'll fix it with Data for the evening after that. I promise."  
  
Crusher swiveled her chair and favored him with a skeptical glance. "I'm leaving this in your hands Will Riker. And if you screw it up, I won't be responsible for the consequences."  
  
"Don't worry Doctor. I've got it all under control." Riker held his right hand up. "I swear."  
  
Crusher stood and placed an arm around his shoulder as she guided him firmly out of her office. "I expect a briefing by 1300 hours tomorrow. Now scoot - I've got work to do."  
  
Will chuckled and waved over his shoulder as he sauntered out of sickbay, headed for an early dinner in 10 Forward.  
  
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Crusher sat in her office holding a tricorder and unhappily studying the results. She'd sent the duty nurse off for a late break. Luckily it had been a slow night, and Beverly had been able to steal away to a science lab for more comprehensive testing. Not that it had paid off. There were fluctuations in her brain chemistry, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing physiological, which left psychological. Crusher groaned and held her head in her hands. She and Deanna were great friends, but Beverly dreaded seeking Troi out for professional council when she herself was the subject. But she could not risk ignoring the problem further.  
  
"Crusher to Troi." Beverly leaned back in her chair.  
  
"Troi here. Can I help you, Beverly?" Deanna had not expected to hear from Crusher that evening. They were scheduled for lunch the following day.  
  
"I need to speak with you Counsellor. Are you free this evening?" Crusher sounded as though she hoped the Betazoid were not. Troi read her frustration immediately.  
  
"I'm scheduled until 2100 hours, but I'm free after that. How about my quarters?" As always Deanna's voice alone was calm and soothing.  
  
"That's fine. I'll see you then." Crusher cut the transmission and stood. Her shift was over in an hour. It left her just enough time for dinner and a chance to relax before meeting with Troi. She intended to make the most of it. Perhaps she just hadn't been managing her stress well lately.  
  
Humming softly she clicked off her terminal and waved to the doctor coming on duty as she left the office, lab flowing behind her.  
  
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Troi crossed her quarters to rest next to Beverly on the couch, two steaming cups of cocoa in hand. "It's clear you've got something on your mind, Beverly. What's up?" Crusher appreciated Deanna's direct approach, even if she wasn't sure herself what was going on.  
  
"Well." She took a sip of the warm beverage - another soothing touch from the counselor. "I suppose it started about two weeks ago."  
  
Troi's dark, warm eyes urged her to continue.  
  
"I've been distracted lately. I've felt restless. But I can't pinpoint the source." Crusher stood now and began to pace, demonstrating her point. "Then, about a week ago, I started losing track of time." Deanna's face was immediately concerned. "I know it sounds bad, but it was only in one or two minute intervals, and never while I was occupied with another task." She began fidgeting with her hands. "Then, yesterday, I was eating dinner in my quarters. One moment I was enjoying a hot bowl of soup, and the next thing I knew I was sitting across the room and the soup was cold." Crusher stood and paced again. "And today Nurse Powell found me in my office. I'd lost more than ten minutes."  
  
Deanna motioned for Crusher to sit again, which she did. But she did not stop wringing her hands. Troi took them in her own and held them firmly. "Beverly, the first thing I need you to do is relax." Troi smiled encouragingly. Crusher felt reassured by her friend's touch and took a deep breath, willing her nerves to settle.  
  
Sensing Beverly's attempt at regaining her resolve, Deanna urged her on. "Can you tell me anything more about how you feel when you enter or awaken from these episodes? Perhaps a thought, a feeling, or an impression?"  
  
Crusher wracked her brain. Not that she hadn't been thinking about it nonstop for the past few days. "All I can say is that I never feel particularly upset afterward. I mean, I'm of course upset that I can't remember what happened. But even though I can't remember what happened, I'm not particularly affected by what happened during the time I can't remember." Crusher shook her head. "Does that make any sense?"  
  
Troi smiled gently. "I think I know what you're getting at." She took a moment to evaluate the emotions coming from the turbulent redhead. They were certainly troubled. Deanna tried to go deeper, and looked up immediately, startled.  
  
"Deanna? What is it?" Crusher had noticed the change in Troi's demeanor.  
  
"It's you, Beverly. You're different." Troi looked at her intently, studying the Doctor's pale blue eyes, her own dark and disturbed. "You're the same on the surface, but when I try to go further, there's nothing."  
  
"Nothing? Deanna, that can't be right." Crusher looked back, her jaw set and eyes certain.  
  
"Beverly, I'm sure. I haven't noticed before because on the surface everything's fine. Quite normal. But under that, it's," Troi struggled with her words, "it's all sort of white."  
  
"I don't know what to say. I don't feel any differently." Crusher unclipped her hair and rearranged it roughly, clipping it back up again. She reached over to the table and offered Deanna the padd she'd been studying earlier in her office. "Everything's within the norm."  
  
Troi took it and looked it over perfunctorily. Neurology was not her specialty. But she knew what she felt, and Beverly was not right. She looked up and met Crusher's wilting gaze. "Beverly, I think we need to take this seriously."  
  
Crusher had harbored a bad feeling about her meeting with Troi since she'd initiated it. Somehow she'd anticipated this outcome. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I agree, Counsellor. Now what's the next step?" Her tone became distant and reserved.  
  
"I'd say we need to have another doctor run these tests again." Deanna looked at Crusher reprovingly. Beverly grinned sheepishly and nodded. "And tomorrow I'd like to begin working with you closely. Whatever's blocking me from your mind is likely the source of the problem."  
  
"It's certainly the most reasonable explanation." Beverly sighed. "I guess I could use a couple of days off."  
  
Deanna smiled and squeezed her hand. "We'll figure it out, Beverly."  
  
Crusher smiled back, but her expression was strained. "And, on an unrelated note, Will Riker paid me a visit today."  
  
Troi laughed. "I got your note about rescheduling the Captain's dinner. I can't believe you let him talk you into it."  
  
"It wasn't easy. Lucky for him I've been feeling off the mark. I didn't have the energy for a real Howard display." Crusher chuckled. "I swear Jean- Luc's next birthday will roll around before I even get this dinner off the ground."  
  
"Even if it is late, the Captain will understand, and he'll be flattered." Deanna took up her hot chocolate and enjoyed a long sip. It was easy to see how much Picard and Crusher cared for each other. He'd fretted almost as much about her last birthday.  
  
"Well, he'd never admit it, but he does enjoy the attention." Beverly winked and Deanna giggled. She stopped however, when the Doctor's expression changed. Troi could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. "Deanna, there's something else."  
  
"What is it Beverly?" Deanna searched her face.  
  
"There's a song that keeps popping into my head. It's very old, from earth. I recognize it, but all I can remember are the first two bars." She paused, visibly searching her mind for more. "I don't know the name of it. I think it might be Bach, maybe Handel but I'm not sure." She smiled ruefully. "Ancient music is not my forte."  
  
Deanna considered the new information. "Beverly, can you remember when you started hearing the song?"  
  
"It's been on and off for the last weeks, but in the past few days I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Do you think it's related?" Crusher looked hopeful.  
  
"I'm not sure. It may be - or, it might just be your own defensive reaction to whatever's happening." She paused and put a caring hand to the physician's shoulder. "Beverly, go home. Get a good night's sleep. We'll consider it all in the morning."  
  
Crusher stood and again smiled thinly, her lips pressed. She squeezed Deanna's hand and left silently. The Counselor frowned at the cloud of dark emotions that surrounded the tall redhead.  
  
*********  
  
Crusher tossed her lab coat on a nearby chair and made a beeline for her bedroom. She was exhausted. She sat on her bed and stripped off her boots. Without even removing the rest of her uniform she reclined onto the bed.......  
  
"It's your birthday, Jean-Luc. Indulge a little bit - who knows when you'll get the chance again." Beverly Crusher gave Jean-Luc Picard a wink and an impish grin as she leaned forward to kiss him chastely on the jaw. Her thick red hair fell toward him as she did so, silken curled locks gently brushing Picard's face.........  
  
She could still hear the wail of Riker's trombone as the unavoidable 'happy birthday' dirge evolved into a festive ragtime number. Crusher had been planning a celebratory dinner for Picard's birthday the past week, but duty had prevented them all from getting together until this evening........  
  
His eyes twinkled in surprise. She smiled easily, beautifully, her features lighting up. "We're out of wine. Could you find us something suitable from the reserve?" She inclined her head toward the bedroom, where she knew he kept his best bottles.........  
  
Still preoccupied with the cake, Beverly did not notice that the tune she was humming did not match the music playing in the Captain's quarters. It was one that had haunted her waking and sleeping for weeks, the first few bars repeating over and over in her head........  
  
She then felt Picard tense against her and responded instantly. Her first strike was lethal........  
  
.......the knife slid at a murderously artful angle between his ribs and through his lung, penetrating and mortally damaging his artificial heart. His expression was pained, shocked, confused.........  
  
She had seen life steal away from a person before, but had always been too distracted by efforts to bring it back to every truly savor and understand the moment. She waited patiently until she saw the very last of the light flicker out of his eyes. She stepped back and watched as he slid down the wall and crumpled on the floor. He did not move..........  
  
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	3. Morning of the Magicians Three

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Morning of the Magicians  
  
Three  
  
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Beverly started at the sound of her door chime. She moaned groggily and looked over to the chronometer. She'd overslept. It must be Picard at her door. "Just a minute." She sat up and looked down at the wrinkled uniform she was still wearing. She must have been more tired than she had realized. "Come in, Jean-Luc." She stood and stretched extensively. As far as she could tell she had not moved all night, and was very stiff.  
  
She looked up and saw Picard standing uncertainly in her doorway. Ever the gentleman. It did not matter how frequently he visited her quarters - he never came more than a step over the threshold without an invitation.  
  
He took in her disheveled appearance with concern. "Beverly, are you quite all right?"  
  
She smiled wryly. "I've been better. Please - sit down." She motioned to a chair at the dining table. "Coffee and croissant?" She was already gliding toward the replicator, her bare feet padding elegantly across the carpet.  
  
He sat down and continued to follow her with his eyes. It was not like Beverly to be so thoroughly rumpled. "Thank you, that would be fine."  
  
She returned to the table with two steaming mugs and two fresh croissants. She set them at their respective places and kept walking into the bedroom. She spoke over her shoulder. "Make yourself at home, Jean-Luc, I'll just be a minute."  
  
He'd clearly woken her and felt a tad uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs, and took a sip of coffee. He turned his attention to the croissant. He was halfway through it when Beverly returned. She was not, as he expected, in a fresh uniform but instead in a long, creamy silk robe. Her eyes were still sleepy from the previous night, and her red hair disheveled. It presented an appealing picture. He cleared his throat and shifted again in the chair.  
  
Beverly could see the affect she'd had on Picard, but in all honesty had not been thinking about it when she'd changed - only that the old uniform had been insanely uncomfortable and that she wasn't scheduled to report for duty that morning. She couldn't help giving him a jab. "Is the croissant too dry, Jean-Luc? I can get you another." She leaned forward to grab his plate, her hand brushing his.  
  
He practically jumped and Crusher had to stifle her laughter. It could be ridiculously easy to push his buttons. She would not if she didn't know how much he enjoyed it. There weren't many on the ship who would even risk trying, but she'd learned some twenty years ago while she and Jack had been pals with Jean-Luc and Walker Keel that Picard's sense of humor was as well developed as any. Suddenly she realized her thoughts had been drifting and that her hand was still over Jean-Luc's. Now the shoe was on the other foot and she blushed slightly as she pulled back.  
  
"My croissant is fine, Doctor. But I have a very strong feeling that you are not." Picard spoke sternly and eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup.  
  
Beverly held her own cup in both hands, thumbs running nervously over the glass. The fact that she'd drifted off over breakfast bothered her. Now that she had time to consider it, the night before bothered her as well. There really was no reason for her to have practically passed out in her clothes. She'd been tired, but her schedule over the past days had been anything but hectic. She gazed silently into Picard's eyes for a moment before she spoke. It would be useless to prevaricate or delay - he'd find out the truth in any case.  
  
"I spoke with Deanna last night, in a professional capacity." She could see concern flash in the Captain's expression before his face again became impassive. "I'm taking a couple days of medical leave. I've been losing track of time lately, and Deanna's concerned about some of the things she's picking up from me." Her tone was casual and she tried to minimize the significance of the situation. Frankly she was a bit embarrassed. She was glad for his naturally taciturn nature - she knew he would not press her for more information than she was comfortable giving.  
  
His body language opened up to her and he offered her his hand in friendship. She took it and squeezed it firmly before sitting back. While she did not want to admit her weakness to him, she found his presence comforting.  
  
"Beverly, please keep me apprised on your condition." His eyes flashed concern. "Is there anything I can do?" His voice was friendly and warm.  
  
She shook her head in the negative. "But thank you." She smiled. "I have an appointment with Counsellor Troi this morning. I've run a medical scan, which showed nothing out of the norm. We're hoping to find the cause elsewhere."  
  
Nodding, he stood and tugged at his uniform. "Well. It's time for one of us to report for duty." He walked forward and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it will turn out." He smiled reassuringly, an expression she or anyone on the ship was rarely privileged to see. He was a man of few words, but said nothing without meaning. She placed her own hand over his. As usual, neither was willing to pull away quickly enough to prevent a shift in the tenor of the touch. Crusher and Picard felt their heartbeats speed up, both recognizing that they had again accidentally fallen into one of those particular moments when anything might transpire between them. For what seemed an eternity they simply stared into each other's eyes. The air in Beverly's quarters seemed to pop and crackle. Finally, the door chimed. Both sighed in relief, but their eye contact did not waver.  
  
Beverly rose. "That would be Deanna."  
  
Picard cleared his throat. "Yes. Well."  
  
Crusher smiled and traced his jaw with her hand before stepping away from him and walking toward the door. She pressed the panel and Troi stood before them. Picard nodded to her as he walked past and out.  
  
Deanna smiled. "Captain." She turned her head as he made his way down the corridor and to the lift. She then turned her attention to Beverly, who was clearing the dishes.  
  
"Can I get you anything, Deanna?" Her voice was thick with emotion.  
  
"No, thank you, Will and I met in 10 Forward for breakfast earlier." Troi recognized that she'd interrupted something between the two officers. She was hardly uncomfortable - this certainly wasn't the first time she'd been aware of the Captain's presence in Beverly's quarters long before she stepped off the lift. Her concern for the Doctor increased however, as Troi realized she'd felt nothing from Beverly as she stood outside the cabin. Usually her impressions from both were especially strong when they shared breakfast. She'd received nothing from Crusher but the usual human background noise.  
  
"How are you feeling this morning?" Troi stepped forward and stood in the middle of the room.  
  
"A little out of sorts, but I overslept." Beverly finished her task and walked over to the sofa. She motioned for Deanna to join her.  
  
"How have you been sleeping lately?" Troi inclined her head.  
  
"Right to the point, then." Crusher arched her brow. "Fine. Actually, I've been sleeping exceedingly well." Crusher's tone changed to one of revelation as she pondered the subject further. "I'm usually woken on occasion by vivid dreams from my youth, or by bouts of insomnia. But this month I've had neither."  
  
Troi leaned back and continued her questions. "Can you remember any dreams you've had in the past month?"  
  
Crusher reflected. "No. I don't think I can." The Doctor's brow knit in concentration. She looked over at Troi. "Do you think that's significant?"  
  
Troi looked noncommittal. "It may be, but we can't be sure yet. I'd like you to think more about how you feel after you realized you've lost some period of time."  
  
Crusher sat back and crossed her arms, her look introspective. "It's always disconcerting." She paused. "But aside from that, I feel very calm."  
  
Troi considered further, beginning to form an opinion. "Beverly, I'd like to go to sickbay and have Doctor Selar re-run the neurological scans you did last night." She doubted that Beverly would intentionally forge her own tests, but it was possible that she had unconsciously affected them.  
  
Crusher shrugged. "Let me change and we'll go." She stood and paused briefly before turning and heading into the bedroom.  
  
Troi walked over to the replicator for a cup of tea and settled into the sofa. She heard the shower turn on and off, and Crusher step back into the bedroom. She became concerned a few minutes later however, when she ceased to hear any sounds coming from Beverly's room. She opened her mind slightly, and was horrified at the sense of confusion that greeted her. She jumped up and headed to the bulkhead door. "Beverly?" She received no response. "Beverly?" Again, nothing.  
  
She pressed the panel and the door slid open to reveal Crusher sitting on the bed, blue eyes wide open and unfocused. She rushed to her side and touched her shoulder gently. "Beverly?"  
  
Crusher started and looked up. "It happened again, didn't it?" She seemed forlorn. The same few bars of the mysterious melody floated through her mind. "Deanna, can you hear the music?"  
  
Deanna seemed to focus, concentrating on the emotions she received from Crusher. Her face slacked and she spoke softly. "It's very faint, and I can't really make it out. It's more of an impression of music, but yes, I can hear something." She met Crusher's gaze and smiled reassuringly. "Let's get you in to sickbay."  
  
Crusher pursed her lips and stood, arms crossed. She favored Deanna with a tight smile before heading into the corridor.  
  
*********  
  
Hours later Crusher and Troi stood outside Beverly's quarters. The medical scans had again proved inconclusive, but Troi was beginning to feel more and more strongly that Crusher had been subject to post-hypnotic suggestion. She'd told her as much, but Beverly was having trouble believing it.  
  
"I can't see how that's possible, Deanna, but I can't offer another explanation. What do we do now?" Crusher turned and pressed the panel. The doors to her cabin swished open. She strolled through and flopped on the couch, thoroughly frustrated.  
  
"I think we've done enough for today." Deanna easily read the Doctor's mood. "Tomorrow morning I'd like to try putting you under hypnosis for a short period of time. I do feel that the music you're hearing is somehow related. But I can't say if it's part of the program, or your reaction to it."  
  
Beverly laughed. "Program? You make me sound like Data."  
  
Troi grinned. "It's not exactly the same." She uncrossed her arms and walked over to sit next to the Doctor. "Beverly, I'm worried about leaving you alone tonite. I'd suggest having you stay in sickbay for observation," Crusher shot her a wicked frown, "but I have the feeling it would only add to your stress level."  
  
Beverly laid a hand on Deanna's shoulder. "I've made it this far."  
  
Troi looked skeptical. "All the same, I'd prefer if you had some company. Would you mind if I asked Data to stop in and check on you periodically?"  
  
Crusher looked back, unconvinced. "If the alternative is being confined to my own sickbay, I don't see what choice I have." Her tone was dry.  
  
Troi smiled again and rose. "Try to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Beverly stood and walked slowly to the replicator, where she ordered a cup of earl grey. She walked into the bedroom and changed for the evening. Humming softly to herself, she began trimming her orchids.  
  
*********  
  
She awoke in the morning and greeted Data who was sitting eerily unoccupied on the couch.  
  
"Good morning, Data."  
  
"Good morning Doctor. How did you sleep?" Data rose and inclined his head.  
  
"Very well, thank you." She stretched languidly on her way to grab a cup of tea. She felt genuinely refreshed. She ran a hand through her hair to pull a few loose strands from her face. She stood in front of the android, sipping daintily at her tea, saucer in hand. "How long are you babysitting me?"  
  
Data responded only with a puzzled look and familiar tilt to his head.  
  
Beverly smiled. "How long has Deanna asked you to look after me?"  
  
"Ah. The Counselor asked me to make sure you made it safely to her office this morning."  
  
Beverly smiled smugly. "My own personal leash."  
  
Data stood stiffly, nonplussed. Beverly brushed his shoulder as she walked by. "Thank you, Data."  
  
"Of course, Doctor." He always found Doctor Crusher to be most perplexing.  
  
Crusher re-emerged momentarily. "Well then. I've got an appointment, and it appears I'm going to keep it." She hooked her arm in his and headed toward the door.  
  
*********  
  
Crusher stared absently into space, perched on the edge of Troi's sofa. She sat silently, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. "I don't know." She hummed quietly to herself.  
  
Troi flopped back in her own chair. She'd been working with Crusher for an hour with no results. She'd been able to coax the anxious woman into a hypnotic state, but had gotten little further. The only thing she was certain of was that someone had been there ahead of her. She could learn no more without more invasive methods, and she did not feel comfortable proceeding without consulting the Doctor. Slowly she brought Beverly back to a fully conscious state.  
  
Crusher's eyes focused and met Deanna's. "Well?" Her expression was hopeful, almost desperate.  
  
Troi's face was full of compassion. "These things take time, Beverly."  
  
Crusher exhaled through pursed lips. "You struck out."  
  
Deanna smiled softly. "On the contrary, I've learned two things."  
  
"I'm all ears." The redhead arched her brow and crossed her arms. She was growing increasingly frustrated.  
  
"The first is that I am positive someone has, at some point, altered your consciousness. I'm not sure how, why, or what they did. But something is preventing me from getting through to you." She knit her brow.  
  
Crusher matched her frown. "Hardly encouraging. What other gems have you got for me?"  
  
Troi shook her head. "Whatever song that is, I'll be hearing it for a while too. You were repeating it to yourself continuously. But I can't determine if it's part of the program, or your own defense against it."  
  
Beverly stood and paced anxiously. "Then we're back to square one."  
  
"We're making progress, Beverly. Give yourself some time." Deanna's tone was gentle but firm, and encouraging.  
  
Crusher threw her hands in the air. "We have no idea what's going on here, Deanna. What if I don't have time?" Her eyes blazed intensely and she waited for a response from Troi. She received none. The Betazoid only gazed back compassionately.  
  
*********  
  
"It's your birthday, Jean-Luc. Indulge a little bit - who knows when you'll get the chance again."  
  
He smiled bashfully. "I suppose you're right." He gazed at her willowy form, wistfully thinking of birthdays past and indulgences he had not allowed himself.  
  
She stalked purposefully back into the dimmed living area and her eyes met Picard's instantly.  
  
"We're out of wine. Could you find us something suitable from the reserve?"  
  
Returning to her task, she jumped and started, almost reeling as starlight from the nearby portal filtered in and brightly flashed on the cake knife she held. Suddenly the rest of the melody came rushing into her head. It was loud, almost overwhelming.  
  
She turned toward Picard and clutched the knife tightly at her side, still humming quietly.  
  
Arms still behind her Crusher moved assertively against him, pinning Picard against the wall. Violins, harps and cellos echoed in her mind, repeating the primary chorus of the song ceaselessly. It was beautiful, haunting, tragic and commanding - and it was everywhere. She searched Picard's eyes intently, but could not find what she needed there.  
  
She then felt Picard tense against her and responded instantly. Her first strike was lethal. She knew his body inside and out, every square inch.  
  
She waited patiently until she saw the very last of the light flicker out of his eyes. She stepped back and watched as he slid down the wall and crumpled on the floor. He did not move.  
  
*********  
  
Crusher started and looked down at her dinner. The previously steaming bowl of pasta stared back listlessly. She threw down her fork and it clanged on the table. "Damn." She stood and took the cold plate over to the recycler. She no longer felt hungry. Deanna had reluctantly allowed her back to her quarters alone, with the promise she would allow Data to check in on her periodically. He'd come and gone before she sat down to eat. She wondered when he'd be back. She stalked through her quarters. This was driving her mad. She laughed at the irony. Going crazy was driving her nuts.  
  
Her door chirruped. "Thank God. Come in, please."  
  
Will Riker stuck his head through the door. "How's the patient?"  
  
Crusher shot him a nasty glance. "Tell me only the senior staff knows about this."  
  
"My lips are sealed. I thought you could use some company." He walked in slowly.  
  
She smiled genuinely. "Well, you were right." She sat down and eyed him warily. "Last we talked you'd made me a promise."  
  
Will flipped a chair around and sat facing her. He placed his hand over his heart. "And I would not dream of breaking it." His eyes twinkled. "It's all set for tomorrow night."  
  
Crusher's face was smug. "Let's just hope I'm around to enjoy it." She fixed her stare on one of her orchids.  
  
Will rose and pulled down his uniform. "How long have you been cooped up in here?" He glanced around disapprovingly. "Come have dinner with me."  
  
"Do I have permission for this little field trip?" Crusher's tone was wry and her arms crossed.  
  
Riker flashed a grin and a row of white teeth. "If you don't tell, I won't either."  
  
A glimmer of a smile appeared on Crusher's face as she rose from the couch and grabbed a sweater. "Then lead the way."  
  
*********  
  
Crusher and Riker sat at a table in 10 Forward. Will ate with gusto, and Beverly was only slightly more subdued. She had the feeling of waking and not quite shaking the dream from the night before. The tune ran continuously through her mind now, a subtle soundtrack to her life. She was becoming deathly afraid of being alone. Worry lines were etched around her eyes. Riker couldn't help but notice and was doing his level best to entertain her. Crusher had to admit it was hard to stay melancholy when the Enterprise's irrepressible first officer turned the charm all the way up.  
  
She chuckled as he concluded a raucous and bawdy story. Usually it would have people falling out of their seats. Beverly sensed his disappointment. She didn't want to bruise Will's ego. "Commander, thank you." She met his merry blue eyes. "Will, I really appreciate you doing this for me."  
  
"Beverly, whatever it is, I'm sure you and Deanna will figure it out." He took a long drink of ale. "Now." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Tell me about this birthday party."  
  
For the first time that night Riker saw a genuine smile spread across Crusher's face and light up her eyes. "I think he's actually going to be surprised."  
  
"Is that wise?" Riker's brow arched.  
  
Now Beverly leaned in. "I'll let you in on a little secret." She crooked her finger and Riker leaned even closer. "He'll be thrilled. But don't let on you know. He likes to keep up appearances."  
  
Riker laughed and Beverly joined him. It felt good, and she finally felt relaxed. Hypnosis or no, she was looking forward to tomorrow night. She sat back and tossed her napkin on the table.  
  
A waiter floated by and cleared the table. "Anything else, sirs?"  
  
Beverly shook her head and Will waved him on. Crusher noticed Alyssa and Tom Powell in a corner. The young nurse stole a glance her way every so often. She was clearly concerned. Beverly rose. "I'll be right back."  
  
Riker saw her glide over to the table and speak briefly with the woman. She touched her several times on the shoulder, and after exchanging pleasantries with her husband walked back over to the table. Will stood to meet her. "Everything all right?"  
  
"Alyssa wanted to know when she gets her extended vacation." Crusher shook her head as she and Riker walked out of the lounge.  
  
After another wild story and a short turbo lift ride they'd returned to her cabin. She stood outside apprehensively. She dreaded facing the rest of the evening alone.  
  
Riker sensed her unease and placed a hand on her elbow and spoke softly. "It'll work out."  
  
She smiled crookedly. "Thanks Will. For everything."  
  
He tugged his uniform. "It's the least I can do for a friend."  
  
She smiled again and turned toward the door. The panels swished open. She walked in slowly. Riker nodded a final good night and headed back toward the lift.  
  
The doors closed behind her and she surveyed her cabin. She sighed heavily. "Here goes nothing."  
  
********* 


	4. Morning of the Magicians Four

*********  
  
Morning of the Magicians  
  
Four  
  
*********  
  
She woke again the sound of her cabin door chirruping. "Who is it?"  
  
"Beverly, it's Deanna." Troi's voice held a touch of concern. Crusher was sick of hearing it from everyone she spoke to. Even Data had gotten in on the act.  
  
"Come on in Deanna. I'll be right out." She heard the doors open and the petite woman enter. She shook herself mentally and tried to focus. She was still caught up in her dream, whatever it had been. Crusher was starting to feel very angry at whoever had done this to her.  
  
She pulled on her robe and strolled into the living room. "What new torture do you have for me today?"  
  
Deanna rolled her eyes. Beverly could be a handful. "I'd like to do some more intensive therapy with you today."  
  
"I don't know if I like the sound of that." Crusher regarded Troi skeptically.  
  
The counselor adopted a stern expression, but her warm brown eyes were reassuring. "I've done some research. I have to say your case is perplexing."  
  
"Ah. Every woman strives to be a mystery." Crusher crossed her legs and leaned back, a self-satisfied grin on her face. She was doing everything she could to distract Deanna. She was terrified.  
  
Deanna sensed the Doctor's fear, and couldn't blame her. She was apprehensive herself. "Beverly, I understand your hesitancy. I wouldn't recommend this if we hadn't exhausted other options."  
  
Crusher regarded her friend. She'd often had to break the news to patients that a procedure had failed, and that a more radical approach was necessary. It was never easy, but it was far worse being on the receiving end. Knowing that Troi would be there to help her through it was small consolation.  
  
"Beverly, the therapy is quite involved, and I'm unsure how long I'll need to have you in a suggestible state. I need to know if you're really ready." Troi searched Crusher's shining blue eyes, sensing much doubt.  
  
Crusher shook her head. "I want to be. I want to find out what's going on, and I want to be rid of it. This sounds ridiculous, but I don't want to miss tonite." She grinned sheepishly.  
  
Deanna smiled. "Let me do some more research. I'd like to speak with my mother about this as well." Crusher's expression was shocked. Troi smiled knowingly. "Believe it or not, I often consult her."  
  
"Well then, please send my best." A tension filled the air, and Beverly stood. "Something for breakfast?"  
  
Deanna heaved a sigh. "Absolutely. I want to hear all about what you've got planned for tonite."  
  
Crusher smiled in anticipation. "Only after I hear about the cake you're bringing."  
  
Troi grabbed Crusher's hand and leaned in. "It's positively sinful. Chocolate, of course. Rich, light - it's amazing. You'll love it."  
  
"Well, it's all set. You've got the cake, Will's providing the entertainment, Geordi and Data on decorations." She laughed. "I'm a little apprehensive about that last one."  
  
"I don't blame you." Troi picked over a croissant while Beverly worked on a Danish. Deanna listened to her hum quietly as she ate. It was eerie. "Computer, record audio for Doctor Crusher's cabin."  
  
Crusher looked at her querulously.  
  
"You've been humming to yourself for the last five minutes." Troi looked at her pointedly. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this." She stood. "I'm going to get to work on it."  
  
"You're leaving me to my own devices?" Beverly glanced at her incredulously as she rose to clear the coffee table.  
  
"Beverly, an important part of your treatment is for you to be relaxed. I need you to be open to what you're feeling. And you can't do that if all you're feeling is anxiety." The trim brunette stood at the door, her hands clasped at her waist. She reminded Crusher of a teacher she'd had when she was ten. "But expect visitors."  
  
The women exchanged smiles and Deanna departed. Beverly stood and stared around at her empty quarters. Singing quietly, she began to pick up scattered minutia that had accumulated from inattention. She tried to clear her mind and concentrate on the evening. She'd been looking forward to it for so long - practically since last year, when she'd reluctantly departed Jean-Luc's cabin just after 23.00 hours. She had not had the determination then to ask to stay. But for the past months she'd found her strength growing. It seemed odd to wait for an occasion to initiate something, but somehow appropriate. Her heart sped as she thought about it.  
  
*********  
  
Back in her office, Deanna downloaded the audio information from Beverly's quarters. She isolated a time frame and stopped the playback.  
  
"Computer, identify the song on playback." Troi sat at her desk, arms crossed, waiting for a response. The computer chirped and blipped for a few moments. It responded in monotone. "Ave Maria, by Franz Schubert, an Earth composer, circa 1800."  
  
Troi wondered where Crusher would have heard the song, and what the importance to her current situation might be. Without knowing the significance to Beverly, it was impossible to know the relevance to her condition. She entered everything she had into her console and sent it off to her mother. Hoping to receive a response by the morning she clicked the monitor shut. "Computer, time?"  
  
"The current time is 13.00 hours."  
  
Deanna had an appointment in less than half an hour. She strolled over to her shelves and grabbed a padd to study the case before the crewmember arrived. She hoped that Beverly would be able to enjoy her evening. She knew that both she and Picard were looking forward to it. The thought elicited a small grin.  
  
*********  
  
Beverly arrived at Picard's quarters at 18.00 hours. He would be off duty in an hour, and she had already instructed him not to arrive early. She'd planned for the meal and wine to be delivered, and Data and Geordi were to meet her in half an hour to put everything together. She punched in her medical override code and entered.  
  
She took a moment to look around, enjoying a rare opportunity to gaze unabashedly at Picard's quarters. She smiled at his knickknacks, all neatly arranged. Books, artifacts, models. A smile teased her lips. She walked past the shelves, trailing her fingers along them.  
  
She sat in his desk chair, which had softened to his form over the years. It felt familiar, and she reclined and settled into it.  
  
.....It's your birthday, Jean-Luc. Indulge a little bit - who knows when you'll get the chance again.........  
  
....... She could still hear the wail of Riker's trombone as the unavoidable 'happy birthday' dirge evolved into a festive ragtime number. Crusher had been planning a celebratory dinner for Picard's birthday the past week, but duty had prevented them all from getting together until this evening.........  
  
........We're out of wine. Could you find us something suitable from the reserve?.......  
  
.....Returning to her task, she jumped and started, almost reeling as starlight from the nearby portal filtered in and brightly flashed on the cake knife she held. Suddenly the rest of the melody came rushing into her head. It was loud, almost overwhelming......  
  
.....Arms still behind her Crusher moved assertively against him, pinning Picard against the wall.....  
  
.... She then felt Picard tense against her and responded instantly. Her first strike was lethal.....  
  
*********  
  
Beverly swiveled in the chair, the door to Picard's quarters sounding.  
  
"Come in." They parted to reveal Data and Geordi. The android stepped forward.  
  
"Are you all right Doctor?" He was quite comical - Geordi had placed a conical birthday hat on his head, a strap secured under his pale chin. Crusher laughed out loud. "I'm fine, Data." In truth she was upset - it had happened again. She had no clue what had transpired between the time she'd arrived at Picard's and when Data and Geordi had arrived. It was a loss of at least 20 minutes. She shook her head and stood, taking a bag from Geordi and peering inside. A wide grin broke out on her face - Jean-Luc would be horrified.  
  
"It's perfect, Geordi." She turned as a few crewmembers arrived with the food. It smelled divine. Picard would arrive shortly, and she hurried to get everything in place before he did. He was infuriatingly punctual.  
  
Moments later Troi and Riker arrived. The air was filled with joy, and already they were creating quite a din. Beverly looked around. These people truly were her family. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction. She turned to finish the place settings, and her heart soared as she heard the deep, resonant sound of Jean-Luc's voice as he arrived.  
  
She turned, her hands nervously hovering at her stomach. She was immediately calmed as she met his eyes, and he gave her a look that at once thanked her and thrilled her. His eyes sparkled in sarcastic amusement as he looked around. "You've really outdone yourself, Doctor."  
  
"It's not everyday our Captain celebrates a birthday." She arched her brow and smiled as the senior staff looked on, all of them smiling in turn. Even Data was trying his best, and doing quite well.  
  
Jean-Luc sensed a growing tension, and promptly moved to forestall it. "Well. Let's eat." Picard sat first, at the head of the table. Beverly waited for the rest of the guests to be seated, and poured wine for each. She finally sat at Picard's right, and waited while Jean-Luc filled her own glass.  
  
As everyone's plates and glasses were filled, Picard stood. "I can think of no better way to celebrate the beginning of another year than with all of you - my friends, my family." There was a heartily agreeable chorus. The room filled with chatter as they began to eat.  
  
*********  
  
"It's your birthday, Jean-Luc. Indulge a little bit - who knows when you'll get the chance again." Beverly Crusher gave Jean-Luc Picard a wink and an impish grin as she leaned forward to kiss him chastely on the jaw. Her thick red hair fell toward him as she did so, silken curled locks gently brushing Picard's face. His breath caught in his chest and his mechanical heart leapt as she pulled back and stood to clear plates from the coffee table. Picard reclined with the second piece of cake he'd been deliberating over with so much agony.  
  
He smiled bashfully. "I suppose you're right." He gazed at her willowy form, wistfully thinking of birthdays past and indulgences he had not allowed himself. He thought that perhaps tonite might be the last he dwelled on those regrets. He had watched Beverly closely, carefully all evening. Their eyes met constantly and she had never been more than a step away from him. She was like his shadow; ever present but never invasive or unwelcome. And one would find himself incapable of explaining if it were ever absent. He remembered with a slight thrill how she'd touched him frequently - familiar, lingering grazes that seemed to invite more.  
  
Beverly reflected on the subtle messages she'd been sending all evening, hoping Picard had picked up on them. Only moments earlier the remainder of the Enterprise senior staff had departed, merry and full of well wishes. The feel of joy still hung in the air of the cabin, as did several loony party favors selected and arranged by Data and Geordi. She could still hear the wail of Riker's trombone as the unavoidable 'happy birthday' dirge evolved into a festive ragtime number. Crusher had been planning a celebratory dinner for Picard's birthday the past week, but duty had prevented them all from getting together until this evening. She was glad to have this time with Jean-Luc, and in fact had a very specific agenda for the rest of the night. Beverly almost giggled nervously in anticipation. She felt like a schoolgirl with a major crush - one that was in fact returned and about to become something real.  
  
*********  
  
In her quarters, Deanna Troi was preparing for bed. She sat at her mirror, brushing her hair and contemplating Beverly Crusher. Dinner this evening had been outstanding, and everyone departed with an intrinsic sense of happiness. Still, the Counselor could not get the tempestuous Doctor out of her head. What's more, the song Beverly had been hearing was now in her head as well, and she could swear it was getting louder.  
  
As soon as the computer had identified the tune, Troi had listened to it through, and was saved Beverly's misery of hearing the same bars repeat endlessly. At the very least it was a beautiful song - the situation could be worse. Not willing to ruin Crusher's evening, Deanna had not approached her with the news that she had discovered the origin of the musical piece. They would discuss it in the morning.  
  
Troi finished with her hair and braided it slowly and carefully before she lay down. She attempted to clear her head of the jetsam and flotsam of the day. She was able to turn down the volume, but unable to completely block out the song.  
  
*********  
  
Beverly finished with the dishes, but before moving back to the sofa she paused to press a button on the desk. An ancient Terran melody from the classical period filled the air and the lights came down almost imperceptibly.  
  
She stalked purposefully back into the dimmed living area and her eyes met Picard's instantly. From what she saw in them it was clear he had not missed her point. She began to sit but noticed she still had not cleared the cake plates. Half of her wanted to ignore it, but the other half of her perfectionist personality insisted that the ambience be absolutely right. Clanging silver and cake crumbs were not part of the plan.  
  
She began gathering them up and Picard stood to assist her. She waved him off. "It's OK Jean-Luc. I have another task in mind for you." His eyes twinkled in surprise. She smiled easily, beautifully, her features lighting up. "We're out of wine. Could you find us something suitable from the reserve?" She inclined her head toward the bedroom, where she knew he kept his best bottles.  
  
Having already guessed at her intentions, Picard was now certain Beverly had something quite special planned for the rest of the evening. He spoke infrequently and with reverence of the vintages he kept hidden away, and knew she would never flippantly request he bring out a bottle. He happily stole away to the bedroom, his thoughts racing. He quickly catalogued what he had on hand, racking his mind for the most appropriate and symbolic choice.  
  
Crusher's smile stayed firmly in place, only widening slightly. His demeanor was always joyous when dealing with wine - its selection, consideration, or consumption. She knew he was thrilled with his task. The fact that he might be more excited about the wine than about what she had in mind afterward only endeared him to her more. She hummed quietly with the music as she finished clearing the table. She stowed the plates away and turned her attention to the cake. Troi had been in charge of it, and was quite proud of the masterpiece she'd created. It was, of course, chocolate. Sinfully dark and decadent, she had managed to find a recipe that was at once rich and light. The texture was incredibly layered - the body firm and the frosting whipped and creamy. The overall result was absolutely intense and left you aching for more. Beverly looked forward to her own second slice, hopefully to be enjoyed in the approaching early morning hours and not alone.  
  
*********  
  
Troi turned over in her bed. She had been in a shallow sleep for the last minutes, unable to reach a deeper level of rest. Disturbing images had been flashing through her mind, and the sound of the Ave Maria was getting louder. There was a knife, and a pulsating flashing, and glasses of wine. Deanna could see that whatever the scene was, it was occurring on the Enterprise, but she could not see whose quarters.  
  
She sighed heavily and turned again. Giving up, she focused on what she was feeling. A sense of horror filled her, and she concentrated harder. Whatever was going on, it was not good. Troi could not shake her anxiety. She leaned over and tapped the panel on the side of her bed.  
  
"Will, I'm sorry to disturb you. Can you come to my quarters? Please hurry."  
  
*********  
  
Still preoccupied with the cake, Beverly did not notice that the tune she was humming did not match the music playing in the Captain's quarters. It was one that had haunted her waking and sleeping for weeks, the first few bars repeating over and over in her head. She was rarely conscious of its presence, but did find herself either singing or humming it under her breath on several occasions. Slow, lilting, and rich, the version she heard was a string arrangement. It always gave her a sense of déjà vu and she knew that it was a very old, very ceremonial piece from Earth - from its sound she guessed perhaps around the 17th or 18th century.  
  
Returning to her task, she jumped and started, almost reeling as starlight from the nearby portal filtered in and brightly flashed on the cake knife she held. Suddenly the rest of the melody came rushing into her head. It was loud, almost overwhelming. Realization swept over her as she recognized the piece, Schubert's 'Ave Maria,' and where she had heard it. She gasped and grasped the knife tighter in her fist.  
  
Picard emerged from the other room and began speaking. Crusher could not distinguish his words, only registered the deep sound that rumbled from his chest. Her vision became sharp and pixilated. From a great distance she heard the clang as Picard set down the wine. Each sound came through to her, but was muffled by the music that was now reverberating through her mind. The composition swelled, and more instruments joined the arrangement. As the piece moved to a crescendo a cello began to play what she recognized as the central melody. It was all she could do not to begin crying. She turned toward Picard and clutched the knife tightly at her side, still humming quietly.  
  
She saw that he was speaking to her, but she could hear nothing of what he said. As she walked forward she feigned a stretch, moving her arms behind her waist and masking the weapon in her right hand. Picard offered her a glass of wine, proudly showing her the bottle. It was of course from the Picard winery, some twenty years old - clearly one of his finest. She smiled approvingly, seductively, and continued to advance. Perplexed, Picard set the glass down and moved against the bulkhead adjoining his bedroom.  
  
*********  
  
Riker sat at Troi's side. It did not take empathy to feel her anxiety. She was getting flashes of violent scenes and emotions, but she could not pinpoint anything. He moved to one knee, poised in front of the distressed counselor. He took her hands.  
  
"Deanna. Relax. Try to block out everything but what you're getting."  
  
Her eyes were wide and desperate. "It's just an impression Will. Whoever it is, they're confused too."  
  
Will frowned. "You said you were hearing the same song Doctor Crusher has been hearing. Do you think it could be her?"  
  
Troi shrugged. "I don't know. But I'd like to speak with her."  
  
Riker raised his eyebrow. "We were the last to leave the Captain's quarters. And those two looked like they weren't intending on going anywhere anytime soon." His mouth curved in a mischievous grin.  
  
Deanna slapped him on the shoulder. "This isn't the time for that, Will Riker."  
  
Will looked contrite and tapped his badge. "Riker to Crusher." He waited a moment, and paged her again. Still no response. "Computer, location of Doctor Beverly Crusher?"  
  
"Doctor Crusher is in Jean-Luc Picard's quarters."  
  
"That answers that question." Riker seemed discouraged.  
  
Deanna was growing ever more certain, however. "Will, I don't like this. We need to go there. Now."  
  
He searched her eyes. They were insistent. "OK. Come on." He turned and stalked out, Troi on his heels.  
  
*********  
  
Arms still behind her Crusher moved assertively against him, pinning Picard against the wall. Violins, harps and cellos echoed in her mind, repeating the primary chorus of the song ceaselessly. It was beautiful, haunting, tragic and commanding - and it was everywhere. She searched Picard's eyes intently, but could not find what she needed there.  
  
Jean-Luc melted under Beverly's piercing stare. Her sapphire eyes were profoundly intense, dilated and fixed. They were filled with passion, but somehow unfocused. He could not ignore her physical presence, but instinctually began to resist her. He began to feel claustrophobic. She was humming eerily to herself. She had responded to nothing he'd said since returning from the bedroom. He spoke her name. "Beverly." She still stared at him, but did not respond. His tone became authoritative. It was one that he reserved for the bridge and signaled they were no longer off duty. "Beverly." Again, it was as if he had not spoken.  
  
For her part, Crusher's ears registered nothing. A clear, crystalline voice was now singing, perhaps the most pure and beautiful she'd ever heard. It was all that she was aware of and the world outside her began closing in. Picard was now the only thing she could see, and all she could hear was the song, a great orchestra crashing in her mind. She pictured an ancient church with great towering marble walls and devastatingly beautiful stained glass windows. She could see the various colors of light filtering in, muted as though she were underwater.  
  
Picard's body began to stiffen against Beverly's in an attempt to struggle. At that moment, the door to his cabin chimed. Crusher panicked, and she struck at Picard wildly, the knife glancing off the side of his torso. He cried out in pain, and she in frustration.  
  
"Beverly, what are you doing? What the hell is going on?" Though bleeding profusely, he managed to grab hold of her wrists. She was fighting him doggedly, her blue eyes blazing wildly. The knife grazed him again. "Doctor Crusher. Stop. That's an order." It was an absurd thing to say, but Picard's world had begun running a million miles an hour, and he did not have time to think of anything more authoritative. His door was chiming insistently.  
  
"For God's sake, enter!" Picard shouted about the racket he and Beverly were creating. The door slid open to reveal Will Riker and Deanna Troi, and they ran in, panicked. Riker immediately moved to assist the ailing Captain, who was loosing strength. There was blood everywhere, on the Doctor and Captain. Will could not tell who was injured.  
  
Deanna tapped her badge furiously. "Troi to sickbay, medical emergency in Captain's Picard's quarters." There was little more she could do until Will subdued Crusher, who was still resisting him. He had called to her several times, but she did not respond. She looked confused, lost, and angry - almost psychotic. Troi had completely blocked out the intense flow of emotions coming from her. Picard had slumped to the floor. Finally, Riker was able to get the knife away from Crusher, but not before he sustained minor cuts to his hands and arms. He held her tightly from behind, hugging her arms against him. Though uncertain of the situation, he did not want to hurt her.  
  
Beverly began screaming. "No. No. No. No." The volume in her head was deafening. Everything was white - she could not see or hear anyone around her. She was weakening, but continued to fight against Riker.  
  
Finally, a team from sickbay arrived. They took in the scene and were immediately confused. Troi pointed to the Picard. "The captain needs immediate attention." Two crewmembers in blue rushed by, and Troi turned to the third. "Doctor Crusher needs to be sedated immediately."  
  
The young woman looked doubtful, but Crusher was clearly out of control. She loaded a hypo and pressed it to her neck. She immediately slackened against Riker, who swept her up in his arms and turned to make his way out and toward sickbay. He gave a stern and unhappy look to Troi as he rushed out. Deanna stood with her arms crossed as the two medics attended to Picard.  
  
Sensing her question, one looked up at her. "We're stabilizing him. We need to get him into surgery." The woman who hade sedated Beverly tapped her badge. "Stewart to Selar. You're needed in sickbay immediately." Her tone was one of shock and confusion.  
  
After a moment the Vulcan answered coolly. "Understood. I am on my way."  
  
The team carefully loaded Picard onto a biobed and hurried off, Troi following closely behind. What in the hell was going on? What had happened here?  
  
********* 


	5. Morning of the Magicians Five

*********  
  
Morning of the Magicians  
  
Five  
  
*********  
  
Beverly Crusher looked intently around the ornate lobby. Jean-Luc had departed some time ago for the bar, and she stood leaning against the railing of the grand staircase. She and the captain were seated on the balcony. Picard had been working for months to get these tickets. It was a command performance of the master Vulcan symphony orchestra, and they were lucky to be as far forward as they were. Crusher was giddy with anticipation. Already they'd had a splendid meal, and she reveled in the air of romance that hung about the entire night.  
  
She'd worn her most formal evening dress. Off the shoulder and midnight blue, it fit her tightly through the bodice and fell in an elegant A-line down to her ankles. It went quite nicely with the gilding that surrounded her in the ancient building. Vast murals held her attention for minutes on end, and she broke only to take in the rest of the crowd. Each couple was well dressed and seemed as breathlessly excited as she and Jean-Luc. The performance was a survey of ceremonial music from throughout the quadrant, and all reviews promised a show that would not disappoint. She smiled broadly as she saw Picard approaching, absolutely dashing in his white tie and coattails.  
  
He offered her a flute of champagne and his arm, and she took both. Though Crusher had spent the last few minutes admiring her fellow concert-goers, quite a few heads turned as two of the Federation's most speculated-about and alluring officers made their way up the staircase arm in arm........  
  
*********  
  
Hours after the drama in the Captain's quarters, Deanna sat at Beverly's side listening to the steady beeping of the biobed. Again she opened her mind to try and sense anything from her friend, who was now in a deep state of unconsciousness, practically a coma. A few feet away, Picard lay stabilized on his own bed, recovering well from minor surgery to repair slight damage to his lung. His chest rose and fell slowly and steadily, almost in time with the Doctor's.  
  
Will appeared from Crusher's office where he had been attending to ships business reassigning personnel to compensate for the loss of the Captain and physician. He approached Deanna, wiping a hand down his face and through his beard. His own injuries had been insignificant but painful and he looked exhausted. He looked to Deanna in anticipation. She shook her head. They had been unable to revive the Doctor, and Troi was unable to reach her. It was now simply a matter of waiting.  
  
*********  
  
........As the overture began, Picard met Crusher's eyes and took her hand. He clutched it firmly for a moment and they smiled at each other, listening to the minors and majors fall into tune. Both were excited about the performance, but Jean-Luc was ecstatic, and in an excellent mood. They turned and nodded as people filed down the aisle to sit next to them. Picard recognized a prominent Vulcan ambassador and rose to greet him. Beverly smiled at this companion as she settled in next to her.  
  
The hall erupted in applause as the conductor appeared, then settled in quietly as the concert began with an ancient Terran shaker melody. The program was a virtual musical tour of the quadrant, with emphasis on Vulcan and Terran composers. Beverly crossed her legs and looked over again at Jean-Luc, who was already enraptured. She turned her attention forward again and clasped her hands in her lap.  
  
*********  
  
Dr. Selar hovered over Crusher, taking another set of useless readings. She chastised herself for her own illogical actions and snapped the tricorder shut. There was no change in the CMO's status - there had not been for the past day.  
  
Picard, however, was doing quite well and was scheduled for release this afternoon, pending a round of light physical therapy. He reclined on his biobed, trying in vain to read a padd Riker had dropped by that morning. It was useless. His attention repeatedly turned to Beverly. What in the world had happened?  
  
He replayed last evening over and over in his head. Speaking with Deanna, the two felt quite certain the Crusher's behavior and subsequent coma were directly tied to the blackouts she'd been suffering. Troi was emphatic that Beverly had been subject to hypnotic suggestion, but was unable to bring her out of it. Picard actually expected the Counsellor in sickbay any minute - they had only discussed yesterday's events briefly, and she was going to question Picard more thoroughly to see if they could uncover any significant details. It was critical to determine when Beverly had been 'tampered' with, and by whom. Troi worried that without finding that out, they may never get Crusher back.  
  
Gazing over at the beautiful prone form of his best friend, Picard sincerely hoped that they would.  
  
*********  
  
.......The last strains of the opening overture faded away, and the orchestra began its next piece, Schubert's Ave Maria. Jean-Luc leaned over and whispered to the Doctor. "I'm quite intrigued to hear this piece - it's said to be one of the best."  
  
Crusher inclined her head, nodding. It was indeed a stunning piece, and she listened intently to the rise and fall of the central melody. The woman beside her started, and Crusher looked over as her neighbor touched her ear with concern. She looked down and mouthed "my earring fell out." Beverly smiled and bent to help her look. She was slightly miffed at the distraction and strained to hear as she ran her hands along the carpet.  
  
Suddenly she felt a sharp prick. Well, she'd found the damn thing. She grabbed it and sat up. As she did so, she turned it over in her hands, and blinked furiously as the light caught the sparkling diamond and flashed in her eyes. She let out a small "ooh." Picard looked over in concern, but Beverly was entranced by the object.  
  
The woman beside her held out her hand, and Crusher dropped the earring in absentmindedly. The Doctor gave up the trinket reluctantly as the woman smiled demurely in gratitude. Beverly returned a tight-lipped grin. The young woman rose and began making her way down the row. Without knowing why, Beverly stood to follow her. Again, Picard turned in consternation, his eyes curious.  
  
Beverly turned and quietly answered. "I'll be right back." Her tone was distracted. Still caught up in the music, Picard dismissed the scene and turned forward.  
  
*********  
  
"Captain, is there anything you can tell me about your interactions with the Doctor after the rest of us left the other evening?" Troi sat beside Picard's biobed, legs and arms crossed, her brow furrowed in concentration.  
  
Picard exhaled loudly and ran a hand over his head. When he answered, his tone was clipped. "I sat to have another piece of cake while Beverly cleared the dishes. She returned to the living room and requested I retrieve another bottle of wine, which I did. When I returned to the room, I noticed that she seemed somehow different........ distracted. And she was humming to herself."  
  
Troi's eyes fired and her interest piqued. "Was she humming the song, 'Ave Maria?'"  
  
Picard looked to Troi in animated surprise. "Yes, Counselor. How did you know?" Picard looked over again at Crusher as she lay on the biobed. He turned back to Troi. "Is it significant?"  
  
"Yes sir. She'd been complaining for some time that the tune was stuck in her head. That at times she could hear nothing else." Now Troi looked over at her friend. "I believe that song is the key to this mystery. Captain, can you think of why it may be significant to her?"  
  
Picard sat quietly, his concentration focused. He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Yes. Yes, that's it." He turned to Troi. "It was a central piece in a symphony we attended not too long ago. But I can't think why that particular song caught in her head. She didn't even mention it after the concert."  
  
It was now the Counselor's turn to sit quietly. What was the connection? "Was there anything unusual you can remember about the concert?"  
  
Picard cast himself back, remembering the evening. It had been lovely. Dinner, the symphony. It had been hard to leave Beverly at her door that night. Unconsciously he smiled at the memory. Troi was cheered too by the warm feelings coming from the Captain.  
  
Realizing where he was and who he was with, Picard brought himself back to the subject at hand. Other than the remarkably enjoyable performance and his lovely companion, there was nothing that stood out in his memory. He shook his head in frustration.  
  
Troi sensed the Captain's mood and took his hand in both of hers. "Relax sir. Think back. Remember how you felt during the piece. Play each note in your head."  
  
*********  
  
Beverly followed the woman out of the hall and into the corridor, and finally into the ladies' lounge, which was deserted.  
  
As they entered, the woman turned to Crusher, whose head was growing increasingly fuzzy. The song that Picard had been so fond of was still playing in her head. She remained silent, but continued to stare at the young Vulcan.  
  
The woman turned and smiled, locking Crusher's eyes. "Excellent." She began to speak, but Crusher was unable to distinguish the words. Only the song remained in her head.  
  
*********  
  
Troi sensed the Captain regain his control immediately. Picard cast his mind back to their evening on Vulcan months ago. He looked again at Beverly and remembered the feeling of sitting, listening to the music. He wondered if she were enjoying it as much as he. Suddenly, he felt agitated. Beverly was moving around next to him. He looked up as she stood. Something had transpired between her and the woman next to her. He wondered why she was leaving in the middle of the piece, but she seemed distracted - so he turned back to the concert.  
  
He related the memory to Troi. True, it seemed insignificant. "She seemed a bit edgy when she returned, but I honestly wasn't paying attention."  
  
Troi walked over to where Beverly lay. Picard stood and joined her. They spoke over the rise and fall of the Doctor's chest. "I can't say I know what happened, sir. But this is the only lead we've got. Did you know the couple you were sitting next to?"  
  
Picard nodded emphatically. "The man was Ambassador Menar from Vulcan. I do not know who his companion was. You're right Counselor - this is our only lead. And we're going to follow it." He stood quietly resolute for a moment. "Tell Will I'll be joining him on the bridge shortly. And have him set course for the Vulcan home world. Warp 5." His steely eyes met Deanna's and he turned without further discussion, headed for his quarters to change into his uniform. Whatever the hell had happened to Crusher, they were going to get to the bottom of it.  
  
*********  
  
Picard stood on the bridge, an air of authority and frustration looming about him. His movements were concise and accurate, and his responses short. Riker and the bridge crew had taken to addressing him only out of necessity. They had been en route to Vulcan for a full day. Picard had sent a communiqué yesterday to Ambassador Menar and had not yet heard back. They'd repeated the hail this morning, and were still only answered by an automated service, informing them that the Ambassador was "not available." Picard was clearly agitated.  
  
Picard stood and tugged sharply at his uniform. He glanced over his shoulder to Riker. "Commander. I will be in my ready room." He stalked off the bridge. Riker glanced back and he and Worf exchanged knowing glances. Troi was still in sickbay, where she kept a frequent vigil over Beverly between patients. The Doctor was not improving - to the contrary, her brain activity was decreasing.  
  
Riker drummed his fingers at the console of this chair. He stood and traced Picard's route to the ready room and pressed the chime.  
  
"Come." Picard swiveled in his chair. He felt he'd made it clear he did not wish to be disturbed. His face reflected his aggravation.  
  
"Captain. I'd like to contact Starfleet and put in a request for permission to raise to warp 8." Riker stood at attention. Picard's sentiment was not lost on him.  
  
Jean-Luc stood and walked out from behind his desk. He regarded Will silently for a moment. Though Riker had been working with Picard for years, and considered him a friend, the effect was still unnerving. The man was absolutely unreadable at times. He stood waiting.  
  
Picard crossed his arms and brought his hand to his chin, meeting Will's eyes. "Make it so, Number One." He returned to his chair and sat, his back to Riker.  
  
Will was hardly offended. His posture relaxed and he exhaled, turning to leave. Before he reached the door, he heard Picard turn. "Thank you, Will."  
  
Riker smiled to himself and continued out the door. They would be to Vulcan by beta shift. And they would be getting some answers.  
  
*********  
  
In sickbay, Deanna watched Beverly. She could not interpret the signs over the biobed, but she knew that they were not good. She spoke to the Doctor frequently, and several crew members had been by to 'visit' throughout the day. Picard had been by as well several times since his release. He had been quite shy, but at Troi's urging had opened up and told Crusher numerous stories about his day and his memories. It had been endearing. But it had not made a difference. Wherever Beverly was, she was moving farther and farther away from them.  
  
*********  
  
..........She then felt Picard tense against her and responded instantly. Her first strike was lethal. She knew his body inside and out, every square inch. She had worked with it for years, placed her hands inside his chest to touch and heal the quivering tissue, and then closed the wounds herself. There was nothing of his physique she did not know, and her surgeon's precision did not fail. She struck smoothly and swiftly without looking down, her ice blue eyes locked on his dark hazel........  
  
Without stepping back she slid the knife out. The sound of the composition was massive, hypnotic. Still pressed firmly against him, she felt a hot rush of blood on her own chest. It was as though she were on fire. She felt it spread to her abdomen. He was bleeding profusely now, but it would not be for long as his heart was no longer pumping. Though the volume of the music in her head was now slowly decreasing, the cello still played the agonizing central theme. The angelic voice of the woman was silent, and Beverly longed for it to return.........  
  
Still the music played in her head and she hummed quietly, studying his eyes curiously and intently as they dimmed. She had seen life steal away from a person before, but had always been too distracted by efforts to bring it back to every truly savor and understand the moment. She waited patiently until she saw the very last of the light flicker out of his eyes. She stepped back and watched as he slid down the wall and crumpled on the floor. He did not move.........  
  
She picked up the glass of wine Jean-Luc had poured only moments earlier. She sank down lightly on the sofa and crossed her long, slender legs. She gazed at the far wall and took a sip. It was indeed an amazing vintage, and she held it up to the stars to study the patterns of light it cast off. A full-bodied merlot, it was almost exactly the color of Picard's blood- soaked tunic. She glanced again at his still form. The voice of the woman had returned and the music filled her. Closing her eyes, she sighed. She leaned back against the sofa and let oblivion wash over her.  
  
Hours later she woke with a start, stiff in her position on the couch. Confused, Beverly looked around furiously, only to see Picard's cold and now stiff form slumped against the wall. The events from last night rushed into her head, and slowly, quietly, the strains of the Ave Maria picked up in her head. She moaned in agony and dropped her head into her hands. "No. No. NO NO. Stop. Stop. STOP." She stood and staggered to the dining table, where the crimson-stained knife glared up at her. She picked it up in one hand and ran her index finger across with another. It was tacky with dried blood. She held it up to the light and turned, staggering back over to Picard.  
  
She knelt down again and touched his face. It was cool and she was surprised that there was no stubble. She hummed quietly, and a profound ache filled her heart. Tears ran down her face. She had not wanted to kill him, and she did not want to do this. But she would. She could see what would transpire. Her heart was cold with fear, but she saw it all. She sobbed as she looked down at Picard. Holding the knife firmly, she knelt on both knees before him.  
  
*********  
  
Jean-Luc Picard stood before the Vulcan governor. "He's been murdered?" His face was ashen. He could see the trail growing cold before him. They would lose Beverly. He despaired for a moment before feeling confidence rush over him. They would prevail - he bent all his will toward it. "Governor, I have a number of questions, which I need answered. I respectfully request that you join me on the Enterprise, where I can more thoroughly explain the situation." Governor Romak regarded Picard levelly. "Of course Captain. I will assist in any way I can."  
  
"Very well. My thanks to you, Governor." He turned from the screen as the transmission ended. "Mr. Data, please arrange for the Governor to meet us in transporter room three." He stalked to the aft lift. "Number One, you're with me."  
  
Riker stood silently and joined Picard in the lift. The doors closed on two very serious looking men.  
  
*********  
  
They regrouped in the observation lounge momentarily. Picard sat at the head of the table and indicated for Will and the Governor to join him. "Governor, I apologize for the abrupt and unceremonial nature of our visit."  
  
"There is no need to apologize, Captain. The circumstance you describe is cause for alarm, and casts even more shadow over the events surrounding the Ambassador's death." The Governor steepled his hands.  
  
Picard shifted in his seat and crossed his legs, his brow deeply furrowed. "You have our attention Governor - please continue."  
  
"The Ambassador, for lack of a better word, 'disappeared' about a month ago. He missed two prominent engagements. The council was concerned and sent personnel to investigate his home. We found him there. He had been dead for approximately two weeks." The politician's tone was somber. Menar had been new to the Ambassadorship, but was well respected on Vulcan. His murder had been cause for alarm, and they had been at a complete loss to explain it.  
  
"That roughly fits the timeline for your meeting at the symphony." Riker turned to Picard, who sat rigidly, arms on the table.  
  
"Indeed." Picard questioned the grey haired Vulcan beside him. "Governor. Do you know the whereabouts of the Ambassador's young companion the evening of the command performance of the Vulcan symphony?"  
  
The man raised an eyebrow. "It is curious you ask, Captain. Vulcan authorities are quite interested in that same question. She is the last known person to be seen with the Ambassador - the night of the performance you mention."  
  
Picard sat back. "There are far too many coincidences here, gentleman." He grasped the arms of his chair. "Will, have Worf coordinate with Vulcan security personnel. Finding that woman is our number one priority. Governor - thank you for your help." Picard rose and extended his hand.  
  
"Captain, if I may, I would like to see Doctor Crusher." The Governor stood, arms behind his back. His features were surprisingly warm for a Vulcan, and age had softened the angle of his jaw and brow. Though Picard was quite uncomfortable with the request, he was willing to grant it. He nodded his head and the Governor followed him through the aft doors. Will returned to the bridge to begin the search for the woman they hoped held the key to Beverly's survival.  
  
*********  
  
Dr. Selar greeted Picard and Romak as they entered sickbay. She nodded in deference to the elder Vulcan and offered the traditional salutation, which the man returned. Once done, she escorted them to where Crusher lay, now moved off into a softly lit and more private area of the main bay. They had not completely isolated her, hoping that the stimulation would aid her recovery.  
  
Picard's heart stilled just a bit as he approached the bed. Involuntarily his hand went to his chest, which was still sore from the stab wound. What scared him more than seeing Beverly so violent toward him was knowing that something had to be profoundly wrong with her to act that way. He stood before the Doctor and placed a hand gently over hers. She appeared as though in a deep slumber, her hair splayed out on the pillow behind her.  
  
Romak turned to Selar, who had joined them. "Has she shown any improvement?" The Captain turned as well, his face still but his eyes hopeful.  
  
Selar shook her head. "She has stabilized again, but her brain activity is not as promising as when she first arrived." Picard nodded wordlessly. Selar retreated back into the main bay.  
  
The Governor approached the bed, and took up Crusher's other hand. It was an oddly intimate gesture, and again Picard felt a bit uncomfortable with the situation. The man's face became more graven as he stood at Beverly's side. Jean-Luc had a feeling there was more to the situation than Romak had initially indicated.  
  
"Governor, is there something you haven't told us?" Picard's countenance was stern, and his posture indicated he expected a forthright answer. Romak sighed and released Beverly's hand. He began to walk away, and motioned for Picard to follow. They stepped out of earshot of the unconscious Doctor.  
  
"A week before we discovered the Ambassador, one of his aids was admitted to a hospital in the capital city. He showed symptoms very similar to Doctor Crusher's." Picard's expression did not change, but his jaw set more firmly. He waited for the man to continue. "He died another week later." Romak leaned forward and grasped Picard's arm. "Captain, I am sorry." Our coroners determined that he and the Ambassador died from the same cause."  
  
Again Picard nodded, this time more vigorously. "There is nothing to be sorry for yet, Governor. I believe there is a woman out there who holds a key to this mystery. And I intend to find her." Picard extended his arm toward the sickbay doors, and the two men moved off. Picard glanced back quickly before the doors swished shut. He did indeed intend to have a conversation with this mystery woman.  
  
*********  
  
Picard walked quickly onto the bridge. "Mr. Worf - report."  
  
The burly Klingon leaned back on his heels and tapped the aft panel where he stood. "The Vulcans have transmitted all the information they have on the Ambassador's death. There is strong reason to believe that the woman has not left the planet." His lip curled. Clearly he was ready to begin the hunt. "Request permission to take an away team to the surface."  
  
"Very well. Coordinate with Vulcan authorities and beam down with four crew members. I expect another report in two hours." Picard snapped his uniform down and sat rigidly in his chair. Romak's words had started an internal clock in Picard's head, and he could almost hear the seconds ticking off.  
  
"Aye, sir." Worf picked up a padd and moved to the aft science station, where Data was pouring over data. The crew's priority was clear.  
  
*********  
  
Three hours later Picard was anxious to hear from his security chief. He had retreated to and returned from his ready room. As he prepared to page the Lieutenant Commander, the comm. channel blipped. An ensign spoke from opps. "I have an incoming transmission from the planet, sir."  
  
"Onscreen, Ensign." Picard stood as Worf appeared on the screen.  
  
"I hope you have good news for me, Lieutenant." Picard was not encouraged by the set of the Klingon's brow.  
  
"Our search has been difficult. But we have made progress. I have already questioned two suspects who I believe were in contact with the woman. We now have a last known location and are preparing to depart from the capital." As usual his tone was clipped and low.  
  
Picard clasped his hands behind his back. "Very well, Mr. Worf. Report back as soon as you have any news."  
  
"Aye sir." Worf nodded and the transmission ended.  
  
Again Picard touched his side tenderly as he headed toward his ready room. He had sent a communiqué to Starfleet Headquarters requesting a reassignment for the Enterprise while they investigated the source of Doctor Crusher's illness. He had been quite firm in his wording, and was granted wide discretion. Now all that occupied his time was waiting.  
  
*********  
  
Accompanied by four Enterprise security personnel and four Vulcan security officers, Worf entered the home of the young woman that had accompanied the Ambassador the evening in question. They'd sent a profile to the Enterprise to confirm her identity with Picard, and had trekked overland for an hour to get to the remote location. From the looks of it, the small house had been abandoned for some time.  
  
"Search the premises. Be thorough." Worf was emphatic in his last statement.  
  
He moved through the kitchen and living room and down a short hallway. He opened a door on his left, which was a small office, empty. He turned to his right and opened the door. He was at once affronted with an extremely offensive odor. They had found their suspect. And she would not be speaking to them any time soon - or ever.  
  
********* 


	6. Morning of the Magicians Six

*********  
  
Morning of the Magicians  
  
Six  
  
*********  
  
Picard abruptly cut the transmission from his agitated security chief and slammed a fist on his desk. It was an uncharacteristic gesture, and Picard was surprised at himself, surprised at how desperate he had been to speak to this woman. He saw her as his last link to Beverly, and now that chain was broken. He clenched his jaw and his fist tighter. Now what?  
  
He snapped his terminal shut and stalked out of his ready room. He flew through the bridge and to the aft lift. "Sickbay."  
  
When he arrived, Troi was already there. Picard had left Riker and Worf in charge of the investigation behind the death of the young Vulcan woman. He had no concerns now other than Beverly, and if he needed to he would will her back to life, single handedly. He knew that she had done as much for him on several occasions – with the Borg, his heart, more times than he wanted to remember. He now had firsthand knowledge of how hard each of those instances had been for her. He knew it and redoubled his resolve.  
  
It was with this determination that he approached the bed. He took up Beverly's hand and locked eyes with the Deanna. She sensed his intensity and was taken aback. Troi was growing more concerned about Crusher's condition, which Selar said was deteriorating. Now she began to worry about the Captain. She sensed his guilt over the situation, which was of course misplaced. He was a man of extreme emotion, though he worked to keep it firmly in check. But it never fooled her, and she knew that his control now hung by a thread.  
  
His voice was low and thick with emotion as he spoke. "How is she, Counselor?"  
  
It was difficult to answer him – Troi felt as though she were disobeying an order as she replied. "Dr. Selar is concerned that she isn't making progress."  
  
"Is that all?" Picard's brow raised. He could tell by her discomfort that she was not completely forthcoming. A Captain for some twenty years, Jean- Luc knew when crew fudged their answers to please him.  
  
Troi was now resolute in her response. "Her condition is worsening, sir. Dr. Selar says the outlook isn't good." She withdrew from the pain she saw in his eyes.  
  
"Then we must find some answers, Counselor." Anticipating what he'd hear upon arrival in sickbay, Picard had asked Romak to return to the ship. Whatever had been done to Beverly, it had been done by this Vulcan woman, and perhaps a Vulcan could undo it. In the meantime, he took a seat next to Beverly, held her hand firmly, and waited.  
  
*********  
  
Romak arrived accompanied by a very serious looking Vulcan doctor, whom Picard learned was preeminent in the study of the Vulcan mind. After exchanging pleasantries, the two immediately began consulting with Dr. Selar. After a moment, they called over Troi. Picard definitely felt the odd man out, and with a mental shrug resumed his post at Beverly's side. Will had essentially been in charge of ship's operations since Crusher's attack on Picard, and Jean-Luc found that while he would not want to make the situation permanent, he rather enjoyed the time he spent with Beverly, though he wished it were under better circumstance.  
  
Picard took a minute to study her. She lay as though asleep, her auburn hair neatly secured at the base of her neck. Nurse Powell had tied it back, but Jean-Luc pictured it in his mind splayed across the stark white pillow. Her skin was paler than usual, no blush at all in her cheeks. Her nose, mouth, brows, were all the same. But what was missing made his heart ache – her piercing blue eyes, which had always cut right through to his core. It mattered little what they might be speaking of, she was always able to stop him cold with one look.  
  
His voice was hoarse as he leaned in to whisper. "Beverly, come back to me." It was all he could manage. Suddenly aware of his surroundings, he quickly pulled the comfortable cloak of authority back around him and struggled to regain his perspective. He coughed and sat up in his chair and refocused his attention on the gathering in Crusher's office.  
  
The group broke up, grim faces spread among them. They approached Crusher's bedside. Picard stood, brows raised in expectation.  
  
Troi came forward. "Romak, Selar, Htepar and I believe there may be a way to reach Beverly." She sighed and continued, her dark eyes stormy. "It's a longshot."  
  
Picard looked down to Crusher's inanimate features. "I see that we have little choice."  
  
Htepar stepped forward. "I have studied carefully the deaths of Ambasador Menar and those surrounding him. I believe that they were victims of an old Vulcan mind control technique. It is most ancient, and widely believed to be mythical in nature. We have never seen an instance in modern Vulcan times. But these cases fit the agreed upon descriptions of the practice." He looked over Beverly curiously, as though studying a specimen.  
  
Picard disliked it and cleared his throat. "What do you propose, Htpar?"  
  
"The technique used on the Doctor and the others involves what we now think of as hypnosis. An idea is implanted, and the victim is sustained until they fulfill their objective, after which they retreat into the state you see now. Eventually they stop functioning all together." The tall man stepped closer to Crusher's side. Jean-Luc could not help but notice how vulnerable she appeared in contrast to the man's significant stature. "I can attempt to reach the Doctor through a mind-meld. But without knowing her mental state, or whether she can participate, the link will be tenuous and risky."  
  
Troi walked over to the Captain's side and placed a hand on his arm. "Htepar, we cannot ask you to risk your own safety. Is there any other way?"  
  
Htepar shook his head and looked back to Romak. "We discussed the situation before we arrived here. The Vulcan government is most concerned with the events that have unfolded. If indeed this tradition has been revived, we are most anxious to make sure it goes no further."  
  
Picard nodded. His expression was grave. "When can you begin?"  
  
Romak, Troi and Htepar all exchanged glances. "Dr. Selar believes that Crusher's situation continues to destabilize. We will begin immediately."  
  
"Very well. Proceed." Picard stepped away as the team came forward. Selar positioned Crusher in a partially sitting position. Htepar met Romak's eyes, nodded, and laid his long fingers on Crusher's temple. Troi stood next to Picard, her hands clasped at her waist. Selar hovered at the other side of the bed with an open tricorder.  
  
Htepar's brow furrowed, then relaxed as he came into contact with Beverly's mind. His features continued to be animated as time crawled by. Troi strained to sense anything from either, but found the feelings unintelligible. Picard's intense emotions didn't help.  
  
Jean-Luc steeled his reserves and worked to maintain his composure as they waited. Htepar did not appear to be struggling, and Picard knew that it wasn't a good sign. A mind meld with two active participants would tax Htepar mightily – that stress was not evident. Minutes passed and Htepar remained focused. Finally, he shuddered and broke the contact.  
  
*********  
  
Beverly kneeled at Picard's feet, studying his corpse. She remembered falling asleep on the couch. She remembered what had happened before that, and she tried to stop as her mind reeled off the horrifying events of the previous night. She had murdered him. Her heart was heavy, and there was a knot in her stomach. Her lungs struggled for air. She could not see past the moment, could see nothing tethering her to this life. She'd brought the blood-streaked knife with her as she sat next to Jean-Luc. Tears flowed down her face. She picked up the knife and held it, staring intently. The Ave Maria began to swell in volume. She turned the knife over in her hands, drawing it slowly across her palm. Her blood mixed with Picard's and she smiled wanly. She felt a sense of peace creeping into the darkness overwhelming her soul as the blood trickled down her arm.  
  
She gathered her resolve and moved the knife toward her wrists. She began to draw it up her forearm, not yet applying significant pressure. But as the bright red drops appeared on her delicate, pale arm she smiled wider, intrigued.  
  
Suddenly, she lost her focus. She dropped the knife and shook her head. Images began fleeting across her mind. Her past, the Enterprise, and........... Vulcan. People she did not recognize spoke to her, and she saw herself responding. Wesley appeared, and then morphed into another person she didn't recognize.  
  
Inside her head, the music was replaced by a voice. It did not articulate words, but impressions to her. It was calling her, asking her to go someplace. Where? She blinked furiously and stood, staggering around the room and holding her head. The voice was growing stronger, but the music increased in volume as well. Everything was so loud. She was so confused. She opened her mouth, not to speak but to try and relieve the pressure in her head. A soft moan escaped her lips. She stumbled forward and fell over Picard's body, knocking against the bulkhead. Everything went black.  
  
*********  
  
Htepar fell back from Crusher with a start. Selar came over and guided him to a biobed. Picard went to Crusher's side and watched the beeping on the biobed. Her readings edged down further. Htepar had not been successful. One look back at the man confirmed it, as he met Picard's eyes and shook his head.  
  
Pircard looked down to Beverly, desperation in his eyes. He reluctantly let go of her hand and joined Troi and the others at Htepar's bedside. After a moment the tall man sat up and brought his legs gently over the side of the bed. Slowly, he began to speak.  
  
"It was strange. It was not like a typical mind meld. I could sense nothing of Doctor Crusher past the reality she is in right now." He paused. "She is with you, Captain Picard. She sees what would be if she had been successful in murdering you. Her remorse is overwhelming. She is intent on taking her own life. I believe that when she fulfills that reality in her dream, she will die." his delivery was monotone. "I am sorry Captain, Counselor."  
  
Picard brought his hand to his lips, his brow and jaw tense. He paced. Momentarily he spoke, his voice low but insistent. "No. We will find another way." He walked back over to Htepar. "Were you able to reach her at all?"  
  
Htepar nodded. "Yes, barely. The programming is very strong. She is fighting me. She doesn't know me, or trust me. She's confused."  
  
Picard nodded, deep in thought. "Then she needs to hear from someone she trusts." He turned to Troi. "Deanna, would you be able to go in with Htepar? To bring Beverly out?"  
  
She shook her head, as did Htepar. He spoke first. "There is no way I know of to conduct a three-way mind-meld. Besides, the programming is strong. She believes you are dead, Captain. She would need to see you to believe she had not murdered you."  
  
Picard seemed nonchalant. "Then we will find a way for me to go in and bring her out."  
  
*********  
  
"Mrs. Troi." Picard stepped forward to greet the woman flowing off of the transporter platform.  
  
"Why Jean-Luc. I don't believe you've ever been so genuinely happy to see me!" She took him by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes, a bit of her ubiquitous effervescence dimming momentarily. "We will try our best, Jean-Luc." She smiled warmly and moved on to Counselor Troi. "Little One! How HAVE you been?"  
  
Though Picard could not shake the intensely morose feeling in the pit of his stomach, Lwaxana Troi could not help but make you smile. He turned, spreading his arms. "Let us adjourn to the observation lounge."  
  
*********  
  
"Of course we can make it work, Jean-Luc. I like the way you think." Lwaxana waved her arm at Picard.  
  
Htepar's hands were steepled. He looked dubious. "The chance of success is small."  
  
"Our chance if we do nothing is smaller." Picard stood abruptly and pulled at his uniform, glancing to Troi, Selar, Romak, and Htepar. None had the fortitude to oppose him. He was a man possessed. If there were any chance at saving Beverly, they would take it. He would not lose her. "Let us begin." He turned and walked briskly out, followed by Lwaxana, hot on his heels. The others trailed behind, skeptical but resolute.  
  
*********  
  
The group stood around a very pale Beverly Crusher. They had traveled another day to Betazed, and the Doctor's condition was now critical. Her life signs were hovering just within maintainable parameters. Selar knew that she would not live out the night. This was their last shot. She pulled stools around the CMO's bedside. Htepar, Lwaxana and Picard each sat. Troi hovered on the other side of the bed.  
  
Lwaxana met Picard's hesitant eyes. "Now Jean-Luc, I need you to relax. I know this is hard for you to do dear, but you must trust me." She took his hands. Picard tensed, but thought of Beverly and relaxed. Her temper, her mischievous grin, the spark in her eye.  
  
"There you go dear. Keep thinking about her." Lwaxana closed her eyes and focused on Picard. His thoughts were warm. He would need them if he were to get Beverly out. She felt herself being swept away in his thoughts. His mind was extremely powerful, very controlled. She let herself be pulled away in the tide, taking in all his memories.  
  
She saw a young Beverly Howard struggling across the Starfleet Academy grounds, a load of padds and bundles in her arms. A long firebrand of red hair blew out behind her. A male voice spoke. "There she is Johnny – my Beverly. What do you think?"  
  
Picard's voice was thick. He felt as though he had been sucker punched, the air ripped from his lungs. Beautiful? "She is a vision, Jack."  
  
The warm autumn breeze faded away and then they were onboard the Enterprise. Picard was standing on the bridge, yelling at Wesley Crusher. Then he saw her, for the first time in years, and his heart skipped a beat. He hardly heard a word she said. He was simply entranced by the sound of her voice.  
  
Now Lwaxana retracted as she felt an intense surge of pain. The next memories ran together, but Beverly's form appeared throughout it all. There were Borg, Cardassians, and emptiness, hopelessness. Mrs. Troi urged him on, through that period. Now she gazed through Picard's eyes as he sat across a small table from Beverly. They were speaking, leaned in toward each other, eyes glimmering. There were candles, wine. A very intimate moment. Picard's emotions were so intense that Lwaxana realized it was beginning to be difficult to differentiate herself from them. She retracted and opened her eyes.  
  
Picard sat, a content smile playing on his lips. He opened his eyes to meet the elder Troi's. His face flushed as he realized the nature of his thoughts, and he averted his eyes.  
  
"Now there's nothing to be ashamed of Jean-Luc. You should be thrilled to have such wonderful memories." She patted him on the cheek and whipped around to Htepar. "We're ready."  
  
He nodded his assent. He again placed his hand across Beverly's temple. Again, there was the sudden jolt as he came into contact with her mind. As he did so, he felt Lwaxana begin to slip into his consciousness. Picard was there with her. There were so many voices, thoughts. He began to lose focus, lose himself. He was simply a conduit now, and Htepar briefly wondered if he would ever find his way back out.  
  
He let go of those thoughts as he saw Beverly lying next to Picard's prone body. She was holding him, sobbing. Her gaze was fixated on the knife, which was fresh with her own blood. She was devout now in her will to join him. There was nothing else for her here. What had she done? What kind of monster was she? The music was so strong now. Again, she felt peace ebbing in. Quiet. The contentment of nothing.  
  
Htepar watched it all. "Hold on, Doctor." Crusher looked up. There was that same voice. She disregarded it. It wasn't important.  
  
Now there was another voice. A woman. This one, she recognized. "There's no need to worry, Doctor. Now just relax and we'll get you out of this awful mess."  
  
Beverly shook her head. She cradled Picard tightly. "Nooo. Stop. Just stop. Please." She closed her eyes and willed it all to go away. She turned to the music and focused on it. It was so peaceful.  
  
Then, she heard him. "Beverly." His voice was calming, steady, even. It was the tone he reserved for her most distraught moments. The one that she could not object to, the one that commanded her attention. "Jean-Luc?" She looked down, but his body was still, cold. It could not be.  
  
"Beverly, I'm here." She looked around furiously. She could not see him. But for once, in such a long time, there was silence in her head. She was exclusively focused on finding Picard. It was his voice. She would know it anywhere. But she could not object to the evidence before her. Tears flowed anew down her cheeks. She was hallucinating.  
  
"Enough!" She put her hands to her temples and pushed Picard aside. She crawled toward the knife.  
  
"Beverly." It was that tone again. It was still calm, but now with a touch of warning. Not quite scolding. The one he used when she was facing something difficult, something she didn't want to do. The one that told her she had no choice.  
  
She sat, knife in her hands. "Jean-Luc?" She closed her eyes. She was very tired.  
  
"Beverly." She opened her eyes and turned. There he was, standing above her. She looked back to where he had lain. The body was gone. She turned back. He stood, a welcome expression on his face. He offered her his hand.  
  
Tentatively, she reached up. "Jean-Luc?"  
  
"Yes. It's me. It's time for you to come back now." His tone was even, measured, and insistent.  
  
She took his hand and stood. She burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Surprised, he staggered backward. "Jean-Luc. I thought.............."  
  
"I know. I know." He took her in his arms and stroked her hair. A great sigh escaped him. He closed his eyes, and held her tightly. He would not let her go.  
  
********* 


	7. Morning of the Magicians Seven

*********  
  
Morning of the Magicians  
  
Seven  
  
**********  
  
Beverly opened her eyes, only to meet those of several concerned faces gazing back. "Jean-Luc?" She was extremely disoriented. The reality of her dream was persistent. She glanced around furiously. "Where is the Captain? Is he all right?"  
  
"Yes Doctor." Beverly's blue eyes met his dark hazel, and each felt a certain peace fall over them.  
  
"What's happened?" She closed her eyes and blinked several times, trying to ward off the headache that was throbbing in her temples.  
  
Deanna appeared. "Beverly, do you remember your blackouts?" Troi took her hand to reassure the confused physician.  
  
Crusher nodded slightly.  
  
"We were right. Your mind was manipulated. But we were able to stop you before you carried out the command." Troi stepped aside as Lwaxana subtly pushed in.  
  
"My dear Doctor. You're quite the stubborn one, aren't you?" Mrs. Troi brushed at Beverly's hair and waved off Selar, who was quietly trying to take readings of the recovered Doctor. It was all a bit much for Crusher.  
  
With as much Howard attitude as she could muster, she spoke. "Enough." The group started back. "I owe each of you a personal thanks. But now is not the time. Everyone out except Selar."  
  
Properly chastised, the group slinked off to hover over Htepar, who was recovering on a nearby bed. The procedure had been more than taxing, and he was in a deep state of healing meditation. He was expected to regain consciousness in the next few hours.  
  
Lwaxana moved off to speak with Deanna, while Picard pulled Romak aside.  
  
"I need to thank you Governor." The normally verbose Picard found himself at a loss for words.  
  
The Vulcan accepted with typical aplomb. While not a creature of emotion, it was easy to read in others. "You are most welcome, Captain."  
  
"I am afraid, however, that we are no closer to discovering who is behind this entire conspiracy." Picard shook his head. "But the Federation will not take an assault on a senior officer lightly. The investigation will continue."  
  
"Thank you, Captain. The Vulcan government will cooperate in any way we can." Romak offered his hand in salutation, and Picard returned the gesture. Each nodded at the other, and Romak departed.  
  
Jean-Luc returned his attention to the Doctor, who had banished him along with the rest of the 'rescue team.' He was tempted to be put out, but instead just smiled, glad to have the feisty woman back to giving orders.  
  
Lwaxana noticed Picard hovering in the shadows and glided over to him. "You're welcome Jean-Luc."  
  
Picard smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Troi." He took her hand and held it gently, while turning to Deanna. "Counselor, I'm sure that you and your mother have much catching up to do." Troi smiled at his not so subtle hint.  
  
"Mother, I know that Will has been excited to see you. Would you like to meet him on the bridge?" Troi's tone was solicitous.  
  
"It's not nice to lie to your mother, Little One. But I would love to see what that boy has been up to." Mrs. Troi waved to Picard as she and Deanna walked out.  
  
Picard hoped that he had stalled long enough to allow Beverly to cool down. He knew that her flare-up had been more of a result of anxiety and fatigue than actual anger. Perhaps she would be prepared for company now. Selar had finished and given Picard a surreptitious nod before moving off to check on Htepar.  
  
Jean-Luc strode over purposely and stood at Crusher's side. She appeared to be sleeping. It was eerily reminiscent of her earlier state, but somehow there was an indistinguishable air of presence about her that soothed him. Again, he let his eyes wander unabashedly over the beautiful landscape of her features.  
  
Unexpectedly, she opened one eye and trained it on Picard. "You're hovering, Jean-Luc." An impish grin pulled at her mouth as she opened the other eye and favored Picard with a warm expression.  
  
"Do you mind?" His voice was full of the smile on his face.  
  
"Not at all." She now looked sad, her eyes burning with intensity, tears beginning to form. "I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc." She reached out and took his hand firmly in hers. Still, she averted her eyes.  
  
He took her chin in his hand gently and turned her back toward him. "There is no need to apologize, Doctor. You were not in your right mind."  
  
"Hypnosis or no, I can't believe I would ever hurt you. Under any circumstances." There was more to what she was saying than she articulated, and Picard read it all in her eyes and face. He would be horrified to discover that he had ever harmed Beverly. He could imagine her distress.  
  
"Think of it no more, Doctor. You can repay me by concentrating on getting well." He leaned in and spoke softly. "I'd still like to finish that bottle of wine we started."  
  
"Oh Jean-Luc." Tears flowed freely down Beverly's face. It was not the response that Picard had been going for, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. She laughed despite herself as he shifted tensely on his feet, gazing around the empty sickbay.  
  
Beverly composed herself and her features were again serious. "Jean-Luc, who could have done this?"  
  
His eyes darkened and his frame grew rigid. "We don't know, Beverly. As soon as you're well, Counselor Troi will debrief you and try to gather as much data as possible to aid the investigation. But for now, it appears that we are at a proverbial dead end."  
  
Her eyes fired with passion. "I want to know who did this to me. To you." She set her jaw and a blush rose in her cheeks. In that moment, Picard knew his old Beverly had been returned to him. She caught the change in his demeanor. "What the hell are you smiling at?"  
  
A deep chuckle rose in his chest. "You, Doctor. When we do find the perpetrator, I would loathe to be in his or her shoes."  
  
The blush remained but her features softened. "You remember that, Jean-Luc Picard."  
  
They both descended into laughter, and finally a comfortable silence. Picard took her hand in his and squeezed gently. "It is time for me to be going. You need your rest, and I need to return to duty."  
  
Crusher met his gaze, and they exchanged sad glances. Neither wanted to part, and they remained stationary for a few moments before Picard exhaled and let go of the Doctor's hand. "Until tomorrow, then."  
  
"Yes." Beverly spoke primly, a grin alight on her features. "Tomorrow." She reveled in the chance to see her old friend again. Those moments when she believed him dead by her hand had been dark. Her life had seemed to be closing in on her. Now that she knew she would wake another day to see him, the possibilities seemed endless. She retreated into a peaceful slumber, her eyes closed before the sickbay doors had even shut behind Picard.  
  
*********  
  
END.................................?  
  
*********  
  
I thought I recognized your face  
  
Amongst all of those strangers -  
  
But I am the stranger now  
  
Amongst all of the recognized  
  
What is this?? Are you some kind of hypnotist??  
  
Waving your powers around - the sun eclipse behind the cloud  
  
The Flaming Lips – Are You a Hypnotist? - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots – www.flaminglips.com  
  
********* 


End file.
